


uneven odds

by amadgirlwithabox



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hogwarts!au, Kind of angsty, except for clarke and lexa being forced to spend time together but that's about it, hp!au, it's explained in chap 1, kind of arranged marriage but not really, no one is forced to do anything they don't want to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-06-02 21:32:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6583336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amadgirlwithabox/pseuds/amadgirlwithabox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Lexa’s an idiot,” Clarke spits.</p><p>“Yeah, I know,” Octavia says. But she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know how extremely irritating Lexa is. She doesn’t know that she wants to punch her square in the face and break her stupid nose, because it gets big when she’s angry. Clarke does know that, she’s made Lexa angry more times that she can count. Lexa also likes to bump her nose against Clarke’s when she kisses her and-</p><p>HP!AU in which you'll find an arranged magic union, a prophecy that may or may not be bullshit, and the aching dynamic of two young witches born in the middle of a war, and whose fate will determine how said war ends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. introduction

 

**YEAR 7 - 20th December, 2048.**

 

“Are you going to write?”

 

Clarke rolls her eyes, “For the seventh time, Octavia. Yes, I’ll write.”

 

“Take it seriously,” Octavia says, following her through the halls. “If you make me worry shitless like during summer, I swear…”

 

“I’ll write,” Clarke stops on her tracks and faces her best friend. Students walk around them, suitcases ready for winter break. “I promise.”

 

Octavia glances around them and takes a step closer to her, lowering her voice, “If they try to force you to anything… Look, Bell is an auror now. He can protect you. We will protect you.”

 

“Bellamy is training to be an auror,” Clarke corrects her. “And I can defend myself.”

 

Octavia crosses her arms and gives Clarke her most incredulous look. “No, you can’t,” she says. “You literally can’t. You can’t fucking defend yourself against wizards if you don’t use magic.”

 

“Not this again,” Clarke hisses.

 

“Okay,” Octavia sighs. “I’m not gonna bug you about the vow thing more. But you really should stay here for the holidays, Clarke. You know Nia is gonna be fucking pissed about it.”

 

“Believe me, if I could stay here, I would,” Clarke answers dryly. “I want to throw up just thinking of spending the holidays with my mother and Lexa’s family.”

 

“I still don’t get why Woods is not on your side,” Octavia shakes her head. “I mean, it’s a win situation for her, too. You stop using magic, your union is cancelled, she is free to do whatever the hell she wants. Simple.”

 

“Lexa’s an idiot,” she spits.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Octavia says.

 

But she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know how extremely irritating Lexa is. She doesn’t know that she wants to punch her square in the face and break her stupid nose, because it gets big when she’s angry. Clarke does know that, she’s made Lexa angry more times that she can count. Lexa also likes to bump her nose against Clarke’s when she kisses her and-

 

Lexa’s a fucking idiot. And Clarke is not going to fall for her game like she did last winter break.

 

“Oh, no,” Octavia says with her eyes fixed on something over Clarke’s shoulder.

 

Clarke turns around and catches sight of Raven making her way towards them among the crowd of students. “Shit,” she says. “I can’t deal with her right now.”

 

“I’m tired of being in the middle of you two fighting,” Octavia sighs. “You are my best friends, and this year was supposed to be the best one but…”

 

“We wouldn’t be fighting if Raven wasn’t so-”

 

“Stop that,” Octavia cuts her. “I told you I would support you and your choice, even if I don’t understand it. And I will support you, Clarke. If you want to spend the rest of your life apart from your friends and your mum, alone in the muggle world, be my guest. But I’m with Raven on this, you should think about it.”

 

“I have thought about it,” Clarke growls. “I’ve had months to think about it, and the decision is still the same. So you need to back off.”

 

“Clarke,” Raven reaches them just then. She’s still dressed in her Ravenclaw robes, she will be staying in Hogwarts, like Octavia. “We need to talk.”

 

“I’ve got a train to catch.”

 

“You have an hour before the train leaves,” Octavia says with a defiant glare. “More than enough time. Have fun with your fiancee under the mistletoe. Raven, come find me in the kitchens when you’re done.”

 

Clarke sighs and closes her eyes. It’s too early for this, and she can’t even begin to imagine what expects her later today. She turns to Raven and begins to walk away from the crowd, knowing she will follow her.

 

When they have finally found a quiet corridor, Clarke stops. “What is it now?”

 

Raven’s jaw locks. “You know what. Please, listen to me, Clarke-”

 

“The only thing I know,” Clarke cuts her, “is that you are trying to convince me to marry someone whose family would stop you, a muggleborn, from using magic if they had the chance.”

 

“That’s putting it lightly,” Raven says. “I’m trying to talk some sense into you.”

 

“Seriously, Raven. Did your new best friend Lexa cast the Imperius curse your way? Cause you seem pretty brainwashed to me.”

 

“You know Lexa wouldn’t do that.”

 

“Do I?” Clarke challenges her. “And what do you know, anyway?”

 

“More than you think,” Raven takes a step closer to her. “There are some things that you don’t know, Clarke.”

 

“So tell me!” Clarke is exasperated. Every single conversation she’s had with Raven for the past few months has followed the same course.

 

“I can’t,” Raven says. “I told you, it’s about the prophecy. The only way you can find out is by yourself.”

 

“Since when do you fucking believe in any Adivination shit?” Clarke mocks. “You were always the one who told me I shouldn’t let myself be forced to the life some crazy old witch predicted on her drunk ass.”

 

“That’s true,” Raven admits, her eyes wide with desperation. “But I know much more now. What you are doing is really dangerous. For you and for Lexa.”

 

“Who the fuck cares about Lexa?”

 

“You do,” Raven raises her chin. “You love her. You were born to love her.”

 

“Cut the bullshit!” Clarke yells. “I wasn’t born to do anything. I can’t stand Lexa, she’s the most heartless person I’ve ever met. Well, no. Actually, that’s her aunt, who, like you, insists in us getting married to continue her fucking pureblood shit legacy. It’s unbelievably gross that you of all people are on their side.”

 

Raven grasps Clarke’s shoulders. “You know Lexa is not like Nia,” she says, words fiercely cutting through Clarke’s soul. “This is not a game, Clarke. You can’t just run away from your fate.”

 

“Watch me,” Clarke hisses. “In three weeks, the time is over. I will take the vow and I’ll become a muggle. So good luck finding someone to continue this prophecy bullshit.”

 

Clarke shrugs herself from Raven’s hands and starts to walk away from her, but Raven seizes her forearm and turns her around to face her once again.

 

“Please,” she begs. “I’m trying to protect you. We are all trying to protect you.”

 

“You keep saying that, but you won’t say what the fuck you’re protecting me from,” Clarke says. “I’m done, Raven. I just want to be left alone.”

 

###

 

**YEAR 1 - 1st September, 2042.**

 

“I don't understand,” Clarke says. She's clutching her father's hand with desperation and holding Milkshake in her free hand. “Why can't I stay with you? I don't want to go to Hogwarts if that means I won't see you until next summer. Please, dad? I want to stay with you.”

 

Her father squeezes her hand gently and let's go of the cart. He bends his knees until his eyes are looking straight into Clarke’s. She can see her own blue reflected into them, remembering her of summer, laughter and love.

 

“If you don't go to Hogwarts, you'll never be a witch, Clarke. You'll never learn to use magic.”

 

“But you never use magic, daddy,” she protests. “What's wrong with being a muggle?”

 

“There's nothing wrong with being a muggle,” he sighs. “But I'm not a muggle, Clarke. I went to Hogwarts and I learnt magic.”

 

Clarke frowns. When she's with her mother, magic is always present: her mother uses it, her grandparents use it, the house elves use it, Lexa’s family use it… But in the summer, when she's with her father, magic is nonexistent. They go to the movies, they bake together, they paint walls, they go camping… Clarke had thought during all her eleven years of existence that her father had been a muggle, so this revelation doesn't make any sense to her.

 

“But if you're wizard, why do you live in the muggle world? And why do you never use magic?”

 

His smile is tired, but soft, and he brings his free hand to caress her cheek, “Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you can't be the good guy. I did some very bad things years ago, before you were born. I gave up magic because I wanted to make up for the things that I did.”

 

“But daddy,” she wants to tell him that he's not a bad guy, that he's the best guy and that he's the best dad in the world because sometimes he lets her have ice cream for dinner, and because he gave Milkshake to her for her birthday even though her mom said she couldn't have a cat.

 

She wants to tell him how much she loves him, but he doesn't let her.

 

“This is a story for another day, one when you're older, and the weight of the things you'll hear won't add to your shoulders.”

 

She can see her mother in the background, waving at her from the other side of the station, standing next to Lexa and  Lexa’s aunt.

 

“One last question,” she begs, aware of the little time they have left, “which house did the hat put you in?”

 

His smile returns, this time a happy one, “I was in Gryffindor. I told the hat I wanted to be in Gryffindor, and the hat put me in Gryffindor.”

 

“Do I get to choose my house, too?” Clarke asks with wide eyes. “Mom and Lexa’s parents wants us to be in Slytherin, but now I want to be in Gryffindor, like you.”

 

“You see, the most important thing is not the house you get placed in,” Jake grabs the cart again and they start walking to where Abby is waiting for them. “If you tell the hat that you want to be in a certain house, the hat will respect your wish. But remember, Clarke, the most important thing is that you make a difference wherever it is that you are.”

 

Hours later, when she's sitting on a stool in front of other hundreds of students, with a hat on her head that's speaking to her and asking her what she wants, Clarke says: “I want to make a difference.”

 

The hat puts her in Slytherin. And for the next seven years of her life, Clarke wonders why.

 

###

 

**YEAR 2 - 2nd, January, 2044.**

 

She finds Wells on the Ravenclaw table, predictably playing magic chess. She doesn’t mind that he’s in the middle of a game with someone else, she’s missed her best friend during the holidays, and what she needs to tell him can’t wait any longer.

 

She couldn’t write to him, there’s always a voice in the back of her mind telling her that whatever she sends, Nia will read. If Nia found out the things she writes about her precious niece, she will surely stop treating Clarke like she’s her favourite pet. Not that Clarke minds, really. In fact, she wishes Nia would finally disown her and call off the union, because she can’t stand Lexa and she can’t stand Nia. She hates them both, she has always had.

 

But then she remembers her mother’s tense smiles during dinner. Clarke knows there’s something weird going on. Usually, her mother will get on perfectly with the Woods, and Clarke hates it. She hates everything that has to do with Lexa. However, she couldn’t have imagined that seeing her mother look constantly guarded and tensed around them was far more worrying than seeing her look happy. Abby had looked almost afraid.

 

She wishes she could just write to her father, and talk to him about it. But he doesn’t like it when she talks about the Woods. Clarke doesn’t know why, she always thought her father would be with her on this. She’s learned with time that no one seems to give a damn about her engagement to Lexa. No one gives a damn about whether she wants to marry Lexa or not. Not even the people that love her care about her feelings. She’s a twelve-year-old girl, and she already has a marriage waiting ahead of her. To someone she hates. And no one cares about how she feels.

 

No one but Wells. That’s why she needs to talk to him, as soon as possible. If that means interrupting his game, so be it. Clarke can beat his ass later if he wants to play, anyway.

 

“Wells,” she says. He nods his head in acknowledgement, but doesn’t look at her. He’s too engrossed in his game, and Clarke fears she won’t have his full attention. “We need to talk.”

 

“We’re kind of in the middle of something, blondie,” his partner says.

 

Clarke recognises the girl, her name is Raven Reyes. She’s in the same year as her, and they share a few classes together. She’s fond of Reyes, they don’t talk much but they usually get paired up in Potion. Clarke thinks it’s hilarious how Raven is one of the most promising students of Hogwarts, even though she’s only in her second year, yet Professor Jackson has to pair them together in her class to keep Raven from making every single potion go boom. Good thing Clarke’s gift for the class keeps them on top of the list.

 

“It’s not as important as what I have to say,” Clarke narrows her eyes playfully at the girl.

 

“Oh, really? And what could that be?” Raven raises an eyebrow at her, as she makes her move on the game. She smirks, “That you’re a bit too much full of yourself?”

 

Clarke rolls her eyes, they’ve got an ongoing bickering battle, which she usually loves, but now she doesn’t have the time for it.

 

“Raven,” Wells says. “Your turn.”

 

“So fast? I swear to God I…”

 

Wells gestures at her to sit besides him, and Clarke reluctantly does so. This may not be the best place to bitch about Lexa but, whatever. She would tell Lexa to her face how much she despises her. Oh, she’s already done that, actually. And besides, Raven’s a friend, kind of. She can trust her with this.

 

“Okay, so guess what’s my mother’s last great idea? Well, it’s Nia’s, actually. But my mother is totally up for it, as usual.”

 

“What is it?” Wells asks.

 

“They want Lexa and I to unite right before seventh year is over,” Clarke says with a shiver of disgust. “In Nia’s words: ‘The sooner the legacy is secured, the better. That way, you younglings will have all summer to go off on a little love adventure of your liking.’ That’s like, five years away. And they’re already making plans about it.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Wells tries to reassure her. As always when it comes to this particular subject, he fails. “I’m sure there’s something we can do. Like you said, seventh year is five years away. We’ll come up with something.”

 

“That’s the thing, Wells,” Clarke feels tears prickling at her eyes. It’s so unfair. She’s twelve, she should be crying about the person she likes not liking her back, not about an union against her will. But she’s not going to cry, not again, not this time. “There isn’t anything we can do about it,” she says defeatedly.

 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Raven says, interrupting them with a slow pause. “I was thrilled to discover just how open-minded the magic world is about sexuality, gender, and all that jazz.” Wells frowns, and Raven is quick to keep talking before he asks what jazz is. “But… you do know that you can’t have a baby without a penis, right? Didn’t you at least learn the basics of anatomy?”

 

“Of course we know that, Raven.” Clarke rolls her eyes. “Unlike muggles and muggleborns, we aren’t told that babies are carried by storks.”

 

Wells nods as he frowns, probably still trying to figure out where jazz fits in all this. “What’s your point?”

 

“My point,” she says, looking at the two purebloods like they’re insane, “is that I don’t get why Clarke marrying Lexa would preserve Lexa’s legacy. Clarke can’t get pregnant with Lexa’s baby. Wait… can you?”

 

“No,” Clarke says, all amusement she may have felt otherwise is wiped out like every time Lexa’s name comes up in a conversation. “That’s not how magic unions work. When wizards say an union will preserve their legacy, they don't mean through their children. When two magic people marry in an uniting ceremony, they're uniting their magic. When… if Lexa and I unite, our magic will come together as one. I’ll have hers and she'll have mine.”

 

“Whoa,” Raven whistles. She's known she's a witch for two years, but discovering new things about the wizarding world is not something she's used to, not yet. “Okay. Wow, shit. Anyway… what’s so important about Lexa’s legacy that needs to be preserved so badly? Why don't you two get to decide who you want to unite with?”

 

“Lexa’s a nightblood,” Wells answers before Clarke can open her mouth and start cursing back and forth.

 

“Listen, muggleborn here, okay?” Raven says, pointing to herself with a roll of her eyes. “Care to explain what a nightblood is?”

 

“A nightblood is the child of two dark wizards that have united together, meaning their dark magic blends and their legacy is dark magic. You know about the Azgeda war, right?” Raven nods, because duh, everyone knows about it. It’s the last great war of the magic world, some dare to say that even darker than Lord Voldemort’s times. “The Ice Queen forced her followers to unite among themselves. From the ones who had children came thirteen nightbloods. Thirteen children whose magic was purely dark. But when the war ended, they were killed. They are all believed to be an atrocity, dark creatures can't bring anything good. So they killed them all. Except Lexa.”

 

“Hold on, not only are you telling me that Lexa is a dark witch, but also that she is the last one of her kind?” Raven frowns. She doesn't know Lexa that much, but she's been sharing a few classes with her for the last two years. This was the last thing she would have expected from her. Actually, Lexa’s quite nice. Sure, she's kind of serious and never speaks more than necessary, but from that to being a dark witch…

 

“A nightblood is not a dark wizard,” Clarke shakes her head. Her eyes focus on anything other than the other two, avoiding eye contact as she always does when she thinks about Lexa’s fate. “Lexa is the essence of dark magic itself. The rumours are true: she can speak parsel, she is not affected in the same way by the unforgivable courses, she…”

 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Raven is smart, really. She was placed in Ravenclaw for a reason, no pun intended. But this is a bit too much for her, she's got a lot of new information to assimilate. “If all that you're saying is true, shouldn't she be in Azkaban or something? I mean, she sounds kind of dangerous.”

 

“Dark magic does not mean evil magic,” Clarke responds with an icy voice. “Lexa's magic is dark. She’s not evil.”

 

Raven raises one of her eyebrows and looks at Clarke with incredulous eyes, “Are you actually defending her? Whoa, never would I have thought I’d see the day.”

 

“I'm not,” Clarke retorts, no discussions allowed in her voice. “Believe me, there are plenty of reasons why I hate Lexa. But she's not evil.”

 

“Which bring us to the other question I can't believe I have to ask,” Raven says. “If you hate her so much, why are you two in an arranged marriage. I can't believe how wizards are so behind from muggles in some ways. Arranged marriage, really? That's like… ancient in almost every culture in the muggle world.”

 

“It’s not a common thing in the wizarding world, actually. And the few cases that still present have a clause of annulation if any of the parts of the union wishes to call it off,” Wells sighs tiredly, giving Clarke a side glance. “But Clarke and Lexa’s union is a bit more… complicated than that.”

 

At this point, Raven merely raises an eyebrow. She's done asking questions. She would never stop if she had it within herself.

 

“It's not a random thing,” Wells continues, and Raven notices as Clarke’s grip on her quill tightens. “Normally, the parents choose their children’s partner, whom they will marry if they grow up and wish to. Clarke and Lexa, they-”

 

“There's this bullshit prophecy,” Clarke cuts him. “Some crazy ass wizard got drunk one day and spat out of their ass that Lexa and I had to unite. So here we are, year 2044 and we still rely on fucking Adivination.”

 

“Clarke, that's not quite how it works. You're right, Adivination can be bullshit sometimes, but prophecies aren't.” Wells sighs when she doesn't listen to a single thing he's saying and starts collecting her things.

 

“Wait, what does the prophecy say?”

 

Clarke spits a dry humourless laugh, “That's the best part, you know. Apparently, there's some prophecy going around about me, and I'm not even allowed to hear it.”

 

“So you don't know what the prophecy is about? Then how is everyone so sure it's about you and Lexa?”

 

“Look, Raven, I'm sorry. I know you mean well but I really, really don't want to talk about this,” Clarke gets up from her chair and grabs her bag. “I have an essay to write before going to bed. I'll see you two tomorrow in class.”

 

###

 

**YEAR 6 - 29th April, 2048.**

 

There’s a wall in front of her. A thick, stone wall. Lexa wants to punch that wall. She wants to hit it with her bare fist. She knows she’ll probably break it. That only makes her want to punch it harder. A broken hand would fit well with the dark bags under her eyes.

 

She’s a mess. She’s never a mess, she’s focused, determined, precise. She’s been a mess since Clarke stopped talking to her nearly a whole month ago. It seems that Clarke forgot everything. The hand holding in empty halls when it was too early for any student to see them, the leaning against Lexa to do their homework together, too close to even have room to do so properly. The love… was it even love at all for Clarke?

 

Now that Lexa thinks about it, she knows it wasn’t. What she does not know, though, is why she is surprised about it. Yeah, there was sex, and sleeping together even when there wasn’t sex. And there were kisses that led to more sex and there were kisses that didn’t, that were just goodbye, or hello, or I missed you.

 

But love? There was never love. At least not on Clarke’s part, anyway. But Lexa knew that. Clarke has made it clear her whole life that she will never love her, that she doesn’t give a damn about that prophecy, that she would rather kiss a dementor than be in love with Lexa.

 

Lexa understands, she does. She’s a nightblood, after all. Why would Clarke ever love her? She’s unlovable. She was made out of darkness, she should be dead, like the rest of her kind. And yet, she had to be the one to be singled out to fulfill that prophecy. One which is bullshit, she reminds herself. The fact that Clarke doesn’t love her proves it: the prophecy is bullshit.

 

For a moment, she thought that it could be real. For a moment in which Clarke let her hold her during the night, and Lexa woke up with her mouth filled with blonde curls.

 

But that time passed, and now Lexa has to learn to conceal her feelings for Clarke one again, because Clarke doesn’t love her, so she can’t love Clarke, right? Of course the prophecy is bullshit. Magic cannot force you to love someone, or to be loved by someone. Magic doesn’t work that way. It simply doesn’t.

 

The prophecy is bullshit, and the only people who have actually heard it are either dead or lying to them, so.

 

She has to put herself together for once and for all. It’s past curfew, she shouldn’t be wandering around the castle, she is a prefect, she has to set some example. She’s going to return to her room and have a goodnight’s sleep. Tomorrow everything will be better.

 

The only light illuminating the empty halls comes from her wand. It’s not intense, she doesn’t want the portraits complaining and making her get caught. She walks fast, she doesn’t have to worry about her footsteps being heard, since she cast a noise repellent spell earlier.

 

Suddenly, an icy coldness shakes her body to the core. She feels petrified and it takes her a second to realise she’s not frozen. She’s just walked through a ghost.

 

“Excuse me, I wasn’t paying attention.” she tells the ghost. It feels stupid, the ghost is merely hovering in the spot, looking at Lexa with their transparent eyes. She doesn’t recognise this one, but that’s not uncommon in Hogwarts. There are a few well-known ghosts, but there are so many more that just come and go or never appear at all.

 

“Alexandria,” the ghost says. She increases her light spell to take a better look at the ghost, because maybe it is one that she actually knows. Not many ghosts are aware of the student population. It’s a woman, it appears. She’s dressed with robes, but it seems that they may be covering muggle clothes. Her hair is up in a bun, which leaves her face completely clean. Her eyes are haunted.

 

“How do you know my name?” Lexa asks, now certain that she doesn’t know this ghost. She’s never seen such haunted eyes.

 

“We don’t have time for formalities,” the ghost says. “There is something that you need to hear. Something that has only been spoken one time before.”

 

“What are you-”

 

“Listen closely, Alexandria.” The woman gets closer, she levels herself to Lexa’s height and looks at her in the eye. “Listen, for you are in danger. Dark times are coming, the shadows have kept crimes out of sight for years, and war is now closer than ever. Listen, now. Listen to every word of what I will say, for it has only been spoken one time before.” An intense cold envelops Lexa, she feels herself getting weaker as the ghost talks. Her limbs tremble, she’s about to fall to her knees, but the woman’s voice keeps her standing. It’s an echo in the dark.

 

“The balance of our world has been tainted. The children of darkness were the first to break the equilibrium. Their deaths did not erase past mistakes. Their deaths unbalanced the world further, but one survived. Those who killed faced their punishments, but one survived. The odds must settle know, and they will do so by their way. The way of the odds is that which not even the sacred rules can follow. The survivor must not believe themself to be the only one, for another was kept in the shadows. A child of light is born to cleanse the balance, but beware their fate, for it is written that the union of darkness and light will appease the odds, but there are two night children who survived. Choose the wrong one, and light will cease. Choose the wrong one, and ice will set the world on fire.”

 

Lexa’s head throbs. The question hanging on her tongue wants to slip, but her lips are sealed, and every effort she puts on opening her mouth has her knees shaking, threatening to give out.

 

“I don’t understand,” she manages to say, her voice barely a whisper.

 

“I must not reveal anything further,” the ghost says. “Remember my words, Alexandria. And know one last thing before I go: there are four heads of the story. Search in the memories of those whose mouths are sealed.”

 

Then, Lexa feels herself falling. Before she can hit the cold, hard ground, the world turns to black.

 

When she regains conscience again, the coldness has left for the better part. There’s a blanket around her body, she can feel it. And a fire somewhere in the room, burning slow and quietly. She opens her eyes and frowns, she’s in the Headmistress’ office. She’s only ever been here one time before, but the room is exactly the same as she remembers.

 

She can’t have been here for a long time, since the moon still shines bright and clear through the window. She catches sight of the Sorting Hat sleeping soundly on the bookshelf and she almost snorts, she would never had thought that snoring was a hat thing.

 

“Tell me, Alexandria,” the Headmistress’ voice startles her. Lexa thought she was alone, though she’s admittedly relieved to find Indra in the room. She can only see the woman’s back. Indra is leaning on something, some sort of stone, she seems to be deep in thought, and Lexa waits for her to continue. “Is your bed so uncomfortable that you would rather sleep in the middle of the hall?”

 

“I fainted,” she explains dryly, her pride swallowing out of her with her words.

 

“You fainted?” Indra inquiries. She turns to look at Lexa, her tired eyes now visible for the girl. She seems old, older than she probably is. Then again, all wizards do. “Shall I take you to the hospital wing?” she asks with an arched brow.

 

Indra always plays a game, Lexa knows that. You don’t get the title of Headmistress of Hogwarts for nothing. She wonders if she can trust her with what she’s just heard. See, there are not many people Lexa can trust. Actually, she can count them with the fingers of one hand, and she’ll have four fingers left. But Anya’s missing. Anya’s been missing for months, and even if she tried to send a letter, that’s not a safe move. Nia’s everywhere.

 

She’s confused, desperate, tired, and Indra looks at her patiently, like she already knows. Like she’s always known. So Lexa speaks, “Actually, Professor. Before I fainted, there was a woman. A ghost.” She searches her memory one last time, in hopes she can put a name to the woman’s face. Once again, she gets nothing. “I don’t know who she is, was. But she knew my name.”

 

“Many people in this school know your name, Alexandria,” the Headmistress acknowledges. “I would think after all these years, you would have come to an understanding of your indirect involvement in the magical world.”

 

“Yes,” Lexa says. She is aware that almost everyone knows who she is. And those who don’t, usually muggleborn first graders, don’t take long to find out. “But she told me… She told me that I was in danger, and that a war was coming. And then she started saying all these things… it felt like… as if she was reciting written words.”

 

She has caught Indra’s attention, it’s clear in the way the woman makes her way towards her, in long, determined strides. She sits opposite Lexa and leans her elbows on her knees. Her eyes search wildly into Lexa’s, and Lexa feels as if the Headmistress is reading her mind. Legilimency. She wonders if that’s an ability Indra posses, or if she would use it at all against Lexa.

 

“Tell me every word,” Indra says. “It is vital that you do not leave anything out.”

 

Lexa does. She tells Indra about the danger and the war again. And then she recites the same words, surprising herself as they leave her mouth. She remembers every single one of them, like they’re inked in her brain. Finally, she tells Indra about the four heads, and how she needs to find answers in memories, whatever that means.

 

When she’s finished, Indra moves to stare at the outside through the window. The moonlight illuminates the castle, it would be easier, Lexa thinks, to just stare at the moon, the stars, the night. To just let go, and forget she was born for this. It would be easier, she thinks.

 

“I don’t know what any of that means,” Lexa admits after a while. Indra has yet to say anything, and she’s losing her patience with every second that passes.

 

“Something that has only ever been spoken once before,” Indra repeats, almost to herself. She turns to Lexa, folding her arms behind her back. “What you just heard, Alexandria, was the prophecy that you and Miss Griffin have been told about throughout your whole lives.”

 

Lexa frowns, “But that can’t be. Clarke’s name was not mentioned. If that was the prophecy, how come people assume it’s about us?”

 

“I must admit I hadn’t heard it before,” Indra says. “Very few people have. I know your aunt is one of them, and Jacob Griffin heard it, too. Abigail Griffin, I am not sure, I would say she has not, considering certain things would not make sense if she had. But to answer your question, the prophecy was first revealed when Miss Griffin was born. ‘A child of light is born to cleanse the balance’, the Griffin family is one of the few pureblood families that has never been involved with the dark arts in any way. I would assume that is what ‘light’ makes reference to.”

 

“Then, I would be the darkness,” Lexa states dryly.

 

“Yes,” Indra nods, unfaced. “However, it appears you are not the only one for the position, as I had always thought you were.”

 

“What that does mean? There are more nightbloods alive?”

 

Indra nods. “It means,” she says, finally looking at Lexa, “that yours and Miss Griffin’s fate is not as clear as I thought it was.”


	2. tell me how vile i already know that i am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one is pretty lexa-centric. what a ride.

**YEAR 3 - 2nd September, 2044.**

 

Her aunt said Care of Magical Creatures could not be considered a subject. She said that it was a waste of time, and she didn’t understand why Lexa had decided to take it. Lexa told her it was mandatory for third year students to take the class, and Nia mumbled something about needing to make some changes in the management of the school for once and for all. But really, Lexa couldn’t care less.

 

Truth be told, she was excited to take the class. Most students thought it would just consist on getting away from the castle for an hour to do some lame activities by the forbidden wood, but Lexa knew better. She had been hearing about different types of magical creatures since she first set foot on the castle and made a friend. Maybe the only friend she had made so far: the gatekeeper and Professor of the class, Gustus.

 

Lexa knows that having a teacher as a friend is lame (she has an inking Clarke thinks it’s lame), but at least she does have someone to spend her time and talk with. Besides, Gustus is great. He’s half giant or something, he told her that every gatekeeper at Hogwarts has been since Rubeus Hagrid. And during the summer he goes to Rumany to work with dragons and sends letters to Lexa about them. He promised he would take her with him someday, and Lexa holds onto that promise as hard as she can.

 

Anyway, she’s aware that the other students aren’t as invested in the class as she is, but lucky for her, it’s their first class of the year. She can’t wait for Gustus to show everyone how wrong they are about the class.

 

The only person more excited about it than her is Gustus. The gatekeeper invited her to breakfast at his hut that morning, and he makes the most delicious tea Lexa’s ever tasted, so how was she to say not? Add to that that she would take having breakfast with Gustus over having breakfast alone at the great hall any day of the week. Also, that way she now doesn’t have to take the long walk till the hut for the class, so it’s all advantages, really.

 

Gustus left a few minutes ago, off to prepare the class. He wouldn’t tell her what they were going to do, but that only adds to her excitement. The rest of the students shouldn’t be too long, though. It’s almost the time. They are sharing the class with the Gryffindors, so that means that Clarke will be able to spend her time with Octavia. Not that Lexa cares, anyway. She doesn’t even know if Clarke is aware of which classes Lexa’s taking this year. She does know Clarke’s, but that’s only because the girl was careless enough to leave her letter on the first spot she found, which is pretty usual for her.

 

Speaking of Clarke, if her hearing isn’t tricking her, the voices approaching belong to her and Octavia. Yeah, she confirms to herself after a while, it’s definitely those two. Octavia’s tendency to speak her mind as loudly as possible in whatever situation never ceases to amaze Lexa. And she could recognise Clarke’s voice everywhere, some days she hears it more than her own voice.

 

“So then I told him that I didn’t care that the only free position was the seeker, ‘cause I don’t wanna play seeker, I wanna play beater, he knows that.” Octavia kicks a stone, sending it rolling on the ground. “And I told him that it wasn’t fair that he was keeping positions from last year, because new people have a right to try, too. So he told me that he was going to do whatever he wanted, because it was his team and he decided his players.”

 

Clarke hums knowingly, “That sounds an awful lot like Bellamy, yeah.”

 

“But it’s not fair,” Octavia protests, taking her robes off. It’s hot outside, days when the sun shines are not very usual in Hogwarts, and when they are, she wishes she could just go have a bath at the lake with the mermaids. “He just doesn’t want me to try out. He’s doing it to piss me off.”

 

“You could always talk to the other students that want in on the team,” Clarke suggests. “If they are enough, Bell can’t deny to have try-outs.”

 

“I was thinking on jinxing the beaters so that the position would be free,” Octavia shrugs. “But I knew there was a reason I always come to you with my problems.”

 

“You can’t just go around jinxing anyone you want,” Clarke says, rolling her eyes.

 

“Well, Harry Potter and… Wait, holy shit, is that a phoenix?”

 

Lexa sighs to herself. If they have seen Wox, that means they are here already. She wonders how much longer she can stay here safely before Gustus comes to get her ass out of the hut.

 

“I’ve seen it flying around sometimes,” Clarke says, eyes marvelling with wonder at the creature. “But I’d never got to see it up close. It’s beautiful.”

 

“It looks kind of angry.”

 

Clarke ignores Octavia, walking closer towards the creature as her friend stays behind. So much for a Gryffindor, she chuckles to herself.

 

The phoenix focuses its eyes on her, and Clarke sucks in a breath, but she doesn’t stop. She keeps moving, slower, but determined. It’s beautiful. She doesn’t know much about phoenixes, just that they’re incredibly rare and magical. Then again, almost everything is here.

 

“Um, Clarke?” Octavia asks. “What are you doing?”

 

“It’s so beautiful,” she says, closer and closer to the creature. “Do you think it’ll let me pet it?”

 

“Uh— Clarke I don’t think—” Octavia stares at her back like she’s insane. Honestly, Clarke acts so stupidly brave sometimes even she, a Gryffindor, can’t keep up. “You can’t just go pet a phoenix like it’s a cat!”

 

“Relax, O. Look at it, it’s fine.” She reaches her arm out, two steps more and she’ll make it. She’s filled with an incredible urge to draw the creature. Its feathers are so outstandingly beautiful, red and golden. Just a step and she’ll feel them. She’s slow, careful. She doesn’t want to scare it away in the last second.

 

But she doesn’t. She’s finally about to touch it and then… the phoenix catches fire. Clarke screams and takes a step back, watching with horror filled eyes as the creature becomes a ball of fire. Octavia rushes to her side and  grabs her arm. They both watch as the fire burns. Clarke feels her chest going heavier than she’s ever feel. How did this— she didn’t— she didn’t mean to hurt the phoenix, she didn’t…

 

When the fire stops burning, all that’s left is a mountain of ashes. Octavia gasps, eyes wide. Clarke swallows the lump that is forming on her throat. The first tear falls from her eyes, but she keeps the rest. “I didn’t do anything, I swear,” she says.

 

Octavia nods. She was right there, she knows her friend wasn’t trying to hurt the phoenix. “How are we going to explain this?” she asks. “We are going to get expelled.” And no, they both know that’s nothing compared to what they just saw. A phoenix burned to death in front of them.

 

“Octavia,” Clarke says with a trembling voice. “This is my fault, I shouldn’t have gotten so close. But I don’t know why it… why. I didn’t—”

 

The door of the hut opens suddenly, and both girls prepare for the professor to come out and see the mess they just witnessed. They are so screwed.

 

Only when someone walks out, it’s none other than Lexa. Clarke’s brows furrow at the lack of concern Lexa shows as she examines the pile of ashes. Did Lexa...? No, it’s not possible, she tells herself. She knows Lexa would never hurt a fly.

 

“It’s okay,” Lexa says then, eyes set on Clarke even though Octavia is standing right there by her side. “Wox is a phoenix. Phoenix do this every once in awhile.”

 

Clarke frowns. Phoenix burn to death?

 

Then, the pile of ashes starts moving. Clarke’s mouth hangs open when a little something emerges from it. It’s smaller than before. Gone are the gold and red feathers, and in their place short grey plumage covers the creature.

 

“Phoenix rebirth from their own ashes. That’s how they remain immortal.” Lexa explains. Clarke watches in astonishment as Lexa reaches her arm out to it, and it quickly jumps on her arm. “Hey, Wox.” Lexa’s eyes lock with Clarke’s, softening at the wetness left on them. “Clarke. It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Her words calm Clarke instantly. She is reassured. Lexa says it’s okay. Lexa believes her.

 

Lexa offers a hesitant smile, then. “You can touch him, if you want.”

 

If Clarke was so determined about getting closer to the phoenix before, she isn’t so sure now that it involves walking towards Lexa. Octavia doesn’t have the same struggle as her, apparently. She just rushes towards Lexa and Wox.

 

“Whoa,” she gasps. “He’s really hot!”

 

Lexa’s small smile falters when Clarke remains on her spot, not moving a finger. She looks at Lexa with icy eyes. She can’t believe she was stupid enough to fall for Lexa’s words. She knows she didn’t do anything wrong, she didn’t need Lexa telling her that.

 

“Octavia, come on. Class is about to start.” She turns her back on them, not bothering to throw a second look at Lexa before starting to walk away. Octavia’s footsteps approach her after a moment.

 

“That was kind of shitty, you know.” Octavia shakes her head at her, disappointed. That’s ridiculous, Clarke is the responsible one out of the two of them. Octavia has no business being the mom friend. “Lexa was just trying to help.”

 

Clarke grits her teeth. Second day in Hogwarts and she’s already wishing it’s summer time.

 

Lexa watches as they walk away, filled with that mixture of disappointment and hopelessness that she’s gotten so used to. A big hand covers her shoulder and gives a squeeze.

 

“Lexa, class is about to start. Oh, look at that. It’s about time, Wox.” Gustus pets his head, and the phoenix squeals in appreciation. “You were beginning to look like a worn out turkey.”

 

Lexa forces out a chuckle and sets Wox back on his ashes. “Anyway, what have you prepared for class that is so secretive?”

 

Hippogriffs. Gustus has prepared their first class around the approach and treatment of hippogriffs. To be completely honest, this is far from what Lexa expected from the class and, judging by over twenty other terrified looks, the rest of her classmates share her same feelings.

 

“Okay!” Gustus claps his big hands excitedly, and Lexa doesn’t have the heart to tell the man that this is a terrible idea. “Who wants to go first?”

 

“Seriously, what kind of Harry Potter level bullshit is this?” Murphy mutters.

 

Lexa curses under her breath, grateful that Gustus hasn’t heard anything. Murphy is right, though. This seems taken directly out of _History of Magic: The Potter Years_. “I’ll go,” she says, taking a step ahead. She hears gasps coming from her classmates, but she ignores them all, her eyes focused on Gustus.

 

“Excellent, Woods!” Gustus winks at her at the change of name. “Come, don’t be afraid. Slow steps.”

 

She can feel every pair of eyes focused on her back. She swallows down, hard. Her feet tremble, but she forces herself towards the hippogriff.

 

Lexa is unaware of Clarke’s held breath. Of how Clarke holds onto Octavia’s hand for dear life, her heart beating faster with every step Lexa takes. She’s about to surge forward when Lexa bows to the beast and nothing happens. Her heartbeat is out of control, she is sure Octavia can hear it. Finally, the beast takes a step forward and bows its head.

 

“Brilliant! Utterly brilliant!” Gustus says. “Go on, now. She’ll let you stroke her neck. Careful.”

 

Lexa does as she is told. She crosses the remaining distance between her and the hippogriff and she reaches out. The neck of the animal is tensed at first, but easily relaxes under her touch after a few seconds. A smile makes her way to Lexa’s face, she can hear claps of hands coming from her classmates.

 

“Fantastic, Woods!” Gustus approaches them and throws a piece of meat at the hippogriff. As she goes away, Lexa returns to the group of students. “That’s fifteen points for Slytherin.” Gustus beams proudly at her, and Lexa thinks fondly that this will be the subject of many tea meetings to come. “Now, who knows which is the thing hippogriffs are most scared of?”

 

“Snake!”

 

“Good! Ten points for—”

 

“A snake, there’s snake!”

 

The students go wild. Everyone searches to where Miller points, screaming and running away when they find the snake crawling on the ground. Out of a sudden, Clarke is pushed to the ground by a terrified classmate. When she tries to get up, she is face to face with the snake. She searches for her wand, but the pocket of her robes is empty.

 

With panicked eyes, she discovers it on the grass, a few feet away from her. It must have fallen out when she was pushed. As she extends her hand for it, the snake moves closer to her, it’s tongue slipping through its lips.

 

 _“Stop!”_ Lexa yells. _“Get away from her.”_

 

The snake tilts its head. It observes Lexa for a long moment, narrowing its eyes at her. _“They scream very loudly. It numbs my senses.”_

 

 _“I know,”_ Lexa nods. _“They are scared of you. They think you want to hurt them.”_

 

_“I do not mean these young wizards any harm.”_

 

_“They do not know that. Go, they do not mean any harm, either. Go now, and no one gets hurt.”_

 

The snake hisses at Lexa. For a second, Lexa thinks it’s about to attack her, but then it turns its back to her, crawling away. Lexa realises the breath she hadn’t noticed she was holding, then turns to look at Clarke on the ground. Clarke’s okay, she checks with relief. She’s unharmed and she’s… she’s looking at Lexa with wide eyes.

 

Everyone is. Over twenty pair of eyes are focused on her, mouths hanging open. Even Gustus is looking at her like she’s some kind of freak.

 

“Did she just talk to the snake?”

 

“Dude, she was speaking fucking parseltongue.”

 

“What, like the heir of Salazar Slytherin?”

 

“So all the rumours about her are true.”

 

“I… I don’t—” Lexa’s mouth feels dry. She takes a step backwards and every pair of eyes follow her. “I have to go.” She runs. She runs all the way to the castle, as fast as her legs can carry her. She doesn’t stop until she knows no one can see her. Out of breath, she rests her hands on her knees. She let her guard down. She didn’t realise what she was doing until it was too late.

 

“Lexa.” A voice she has no doubt belongs to Clarke calls. She finds the girl approaching her carefully. Clarke’s cheeks are red, and she’s breathing heavily. Lexa wonders if she just run off after her. Unlikely, she thinks, it’s Clarke. “Are you okay?”

 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She snaps. She regrets it instantly, as Clarke flinches a step back from her. “I just let everyone know I can speak parsel,” she covers her face with her hands, unable to stand the way Clarke is looking at her. “They’re not going to shut up about it.”

 

“So what if you speak parsel? That doesn’t mean anything,” Clarke says. “So did Harry Potter.”

 

Lexa lets out a humorless laugh. “Yes, and so did Lord Voldemort, and the Ice Queen.”

 

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

 

“No?” Lexa asks, incredulous. Just half an hour ago, Clarke was running away from her like she had hexed her cat. “I’m a freaking nightblood, Clarke. Of course it means something. Why do you even care, anyway?”

 

“I don’t.” Clarke’s voice hardens, and Lexa closes her eyes. How is it that the very few times Clarke comes to her she always screws it up? “I don’t give a damn,” she repeats, more determined this time. “But you were trying to get the snake away from me, so I owe you.”  


Of course, Lexa thinks, defeated. She was a fool to get her hopes up when Clarke came to her. “You don’t owe me anything, Clarke.” She sighs, giving her back to the girl so that she can’t see the mess her face sure is. “Go back to your friends, I don’t want your pity.”

 

At the lack of response, Lexa is about to turn around and just flat right tell Clarke to leave her alone. But as she collects herself and straightens her posture, she hears Clarke’s steps slowly disappearing in the distance. She looks up to watch, for the second time in less than an hour, Clarke Griffin walking away from her without hesitation.

  


**YEAR 3 - 8th September, 2044.**

 

Lexa tightens her grip on her books as she walks out of the classroom. Ever since the snake incident, the rest of students don’t even bother to pretend they’re not staring at her and whispering about her when she walks past them.

 

“Woods.”

 

She takes a big breath before turning to the direction of the call. She doesn’t even know why she stops, since it’ll surely be just another kid that wants to take their shit out on her. However, she’s almost pleased to find Reyes making her way towards her.

 

“Yes?”

 

Reyes stops before her and searches through her bag. Lexa awaits, raising an eyebrow at the strange encounter. She wonders what Reyes want. Does it have anything to do with Clarke? Unlikely. Clarke’s been actively ignoring her for the past few days, which is not unusual. Although this time she hasn’t even seen her in the Slytherin common room. And that’s the weird part, they share a dorm, how is it possible that she’s barely seen Clarke?

 

Whatever, it’s not like it’s her business, anyway. And if Clarke found out she cared about it, she’d probably spit on Lexa’s face, so.

 

“Ah, got it!” Reyes says, finally. She takes a small piece of paper out of her bag and hands it over to Lexa. “Professor Sinclair told me to give you this. I think it’s the password for the Headmistress’ office.” Reyes shrugs with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, couldn’t help looking at it.”

 

Lexa takes the paper and gives Reyes a short, awkward nod. “Thanks.”

 

Reyes waves a hand, walking past her. “Anytime.”

 

With Reyes out of sight, she unfolds the paper. “Blancmange,” it reads. She knits her eyebrows together, but keeps Raven’s clue in mind. If this is the password for the Headmistress’ office, does that mean Lexa is meant to go there right now? A knot forms in her throat. Could this be about the snake incident? She thought it was weird that she wasn’t getting any detention on it, but guess that luck ends now.

 

With trembling hands, she puts the paper on the pocket of her robes and walks to the Headmistress’ tower. She’s never actually been there, but everyone knows where it is. Hogwarts is huge, though, so it takes her a good five minutes to finally arrived to where the gargoyle guards the entrance.

 

The gargoyle stands, expecting. Lexa clears her throat. “Blancmange,” she says to the stone statue. Fortunately, Reyes wasn’t wrong. The stairs begin to move, taking her up until she is standing in front of a wooden door. She waits for a second, uncertain, before knocking.

 

“Come in.”

 

Lexa pushes the door. Inside, Headmistress Indra and a woman she doesn’t recognise look at her. The Headmistress nods at her, urging Lexa to fully enter and close the door behind her. She takes a better look at the woman. She’s not old, that’s clear. She can’t be much older than twenty-something. The woman rewards her with the same examination, and Lexa feels herself grow guarded until their silent interaction is broken by Indra.

 

“Ms Woods, take a seat.”

 

Lexa takes the chair left by the woman’s side. Indra rests her elbows on her desk, hands clasping together. “I hear you had an unexpected encounter this week in Professor Gustus’ class.”

 

Lexa feels her cheeks go red. “Professor that wasn’t— It wasn’t my intention to—”

 

“Easy, Ms Woods,” Indra says. “I did not call you hear to punish you.” Lexa is as relieved to hear that as she is confused. Noticing her furrowed brows, Indra signals to the other woman. “This is Anya Vulchanova, she is a notorious graduated student from Durmstrang. She’s finishing her auror studies, and I asked her to come to Hogwarts and teach Dark Art lessons in the meantime.”

 

Lexa blinks. “I thought Dark Art lessons were banned.”

 

“They are,” Indra nods. “Which is why I asked Anya to teach them. Out of the record, of course.”

 

“I do not understand,” Lexa says. “Does that mean Professor Lupin is fired?”

 

Indra shakes her head, eyes set on her. “No, Alexandria. Anya is not going to replace Professor Lupin. She will only teach you. With her, you will learn different applications of magic, much more advanced, which will suit your capacities better.”

 

Lexa clears her throat. “Why? Is this because I’m a nightblood? Because I’m more than capable of controlling my—”

 

“Five days ago, you spoke parseltongue without meaning to, kid. You’ve got nothing under control.” Lexa turns to the woman, indignantly. She is met with a defiant raised eyebrow and a smirk. “You’re being offered the chance to learn much more advanced magic. Tell me, kid, have you learned the patronus charm, yet?”

 

“No, that’s not taught until six year but—”

 

“Do you know how to disarm?”

 

“No bu—”

 

“I see,” Anya interrupts her for the third time and Lexa grips the edge of her seat in an attempt not to grab her wand. Which would be the poorest of choices, considering the woman has proven Lexa has little to no chance against her.

 

“In Hogwarts we do not favour dueling magic until much later years,” Indra says, glaring at Anya slightly. Anya just shrugs, leaning back on her chair. “However, in light of recent events, it would be best if your teaching is approached in a different way, Alexandria.”

 

Lexa nods, knowing there’s no out of this. Even if it was, she wants to do this. She wants to learn more magic. She wants to know how to defend herself in case… something happens. “When will these lessons take place?” she asks.

 

“Every night,” Anya answers. “After dinner, before bed. Everyday, without a fault. Do not come to me with homework complaints, kid.”

 

“I won’t,” Lexa says, jaw clenched. She turns to Indra and gets up, smoothing her uniform. “Would that be all, Professor?”

 

Indra nods, “You are dismissed, Ms Woods.”

 

Just as she’s about to leave the office, the Headmistress calls her again.

 

“And, Alexandria?”

 

“Yes, Professor?”

 

“I think we would both agree that it would be best if your aunt was not aware of your… special lessons.”

 

“I think so, Professor.”

  
  


**YEAR 6 - 5th February, 2048.**

The pressure is overwhelming her. She sinks herself lower, harder. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. She wants more, much more. She wants everything. The thing is, Lexa always gives her everything, and it’s never enough. Clarke needs more, so much more. She could never get enough of Lexa.

She grabs at Lexa’s hair, hard, crushing their lips together, deeper than before. She can feel Lexa’s cheeky smile against her tongue as she tastes Lexa’s lower lip, like it’s the first time she’s ever done it. That couldn’t be farther from the truth, yet she is never tired of exploring every single millimeter of space there is to explore about Lexa.

And Lexa, oh, Lexa. A few months ago, Clarke was sure that Lexa wouldn’t even dream of making out with someone in such a risky place as the middle of the common room, where everyone could walk on them in any minute. It’s even silly, taking into account that both of them have single rooms they could very much take advantage of. Yet here they are, and it only took Clarke shoving Lexa’s books and silently demanding her attention. 

Tonight, those rooms are too far. Clarke needs something to happen, and she needs it now. And Lexa, she likes to take her time. Usually, Clarke would take pleasure on that, let Lexa work her up higher than she’s ever been. However, as the seconds pass, she loses every bit of patience she has left.

But, apparently, Lexa can wait, because she simply places her hands on Clarke’s waist, ignoring the invitation to touch more intimate places. Lexa kisses her then, softer but just as deep. She’s saying “Hold on”, she’s saying “relax”, but Clarke can’t relax. She makes a point of it as she grabs one of Lexa’s hands and leads her to the inside of her skirt again.

“Clarke,” Lexa hisses. “Anyone could see us here.”

Clarke knows it’s true. There’s a lot at risk. No one can see them, if she is caught with Lexa, she’d be throwing away everything she’s been trying to build up about herself. She knows how risky this is. Lexa knows how risky this is. But Lexa doesn’t take her hand away, and Clarke tugs harder at her hair.

“I don’t care,” she says, though she doesn’t know whether she’s trying to convince Lexa or herself. “I need you to touch me.”

“I am very much touching you, Clarke.” Lexa’s hands disappears to her backside and makes her point by squeezing the bare skin of her sides.

Clarke whines loudly, trying to muffle the sound against Lexa’s collarbone. Despite her impatience, she enjoys the moment. For now, she doesn’t have to keep her guard up. For now, she can give up her self control. She can let go. She can let Lexa take everything. For now.

“Lexa.” The soft murmur drags a little gasp out of Lexa’s mouth, makes Clarke close her eyes. “I need…”

“What?” Lexa whispers in her ear. “What do you need, Clarke? It’s yours. Anything you want.”

There’s a seriousness in the statement that Clarke will not, cannot process. Not now, not ever. Lexa looks at her with open eyes, like she’s swallowing her with them, and if she closes her eyes, no matter how little, she will miss the world. Lexa looks at her like she’s the world, but Clarke knows that she’s not. She can’t be. Not to Lexa, at least.

“You know exactly what I need,” she says, instead of everything else she’d like to say. “Please.”

“Bedroom?” Lexa asks. 

**  
Clarke rolls her eyes. “Fine, take the fun away.” She tugs at Lexa’s hand impatiently. “C’mon.” **

 

 

**16th October, 2048**

 

It’s a full moon night. The moonlight coming through the small window on the stone wall is more than enough to tell her that. That same light is the only thing illuminating the room, which feels her with an inexplicable content. She could grab her wand and have the room filled with light in a mere second, but she has no desire to do so.

 

Ontari yearns to get out. To shift and become one with the woods. But she knows she can’t, not tonight. Her Queen will visit her tonight, she has to be prepared for that. She can’t be missing when her Queen comes for her, she won’t disrespect her in such a way.

 

She waits patiently. She’s been taught to wait since she was a kid. She’s been waiting all her life. Waiting. Waiting. For her Queen. For her fate.

 

She feels the presence of her Queen at last. It gets closer, and Ontari shivers with anticipation. She kneels and lowers her head. The only thing she can see is her Queen’s shoes. She keeps her eyes on the ground. She was taught well. She won’t disrespect her Queen.

 

“Ontari,” her Queen says her name with her icy voice. “Look at me.”

 

Ontari obeys the command. Her Queen looks tired, old. No, she shouldn’t think that. Her Queen knows what she thinks. Her Queen is powerful. Her Queen is full of greatness.

 

“The time is coming, my dear. Sooner than I expected, unfortunately. Alexandria has proven herself to be more of a failure than I anticipated. She is doing such a poor job that Griffin is going to turn herself into a muggle.” The words are filled with disdain. “Just like her father,” the Queen spits. “Such a shame one of the purest legacy of magic is wasted in those two. Do not worry, soon that legacy will be yours. I only regret I waited so long for the chance Alexandria would change with my teachings. They are useless, both of them. Such a waste.”

 

The Queen rises her to her feet with a flick of her wrist. She takes Ontari’s jaw in her hand. “You, on the other hand, have been my best pupil. You have earned your right to share greatness with me, my darling. We will get it soon, you will see. Once Alexandria and Griffin are out of the equation, we will get everything we have waited for.”

 

**YEAR 7 - 20th December, 2048**

 

The train is about to arrive to its destination, and Clarke has no wish for it to stop. She would give everything she owns to just stay like this forever: staring out of the windows as mountains, rivers, woods and cities travel past her eyes, with no other company then the constant noise of the train.

 

Of course, she doesn’t even have to wait to get to the station before the little peace she’s managed to gather is broken again. This time in the form of Lexa storming inside her wagon.

 

“I’ve been looking for you the whole journey,” Lexa says, breathlessly. “Guess I’d just had to come straight up to the last wagon.”

 

“Obviously, I didn’t want to be found.” Clarke crosses her arms on her chest. “Much less by you.”

 

“Believe me, I know that.” Lexa sits opposite her despite her words. “However, there are some things we need to discuss.”

 

“I’ve got nothing to talk to you about.”

 

“Okay, so don’t,” Lexa begs, leaning closer to her. “Don’t talk, okay? Just listen.”

 

She places a hand  over Clarke’s knee. It’s not something she commands her brain to do. The action is involuntary, out of instinct. And it’s met with a swat by Clarke, who looks at Lexa with furious eyes.

 

“Don’t touch me,” she growls.  


“I’m not,” Lexa says, rising her hands in defeat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I’m not going to touch you, Clarke.”

 

“Quick,” Clarke says. “You have a minute before I throw you out.”

 

Lexa nods. She’ll take as much as she can get. “You’ve got to use magic,” she goes directly to the point, they’ve got no time to waste, after all. “Please, Clarke. You can’t take the bow.”

 

“I thought you of all people would have realised by now I’m not changing my mind.”

 

“I’ve respected your decision for more than seven months, Clarke. Seven months, seven weeks, and seven days, the time without using magic you need to be in order to take the bow and become a muggle. You’re running out of time, Clarke.”

 

“Good,” Clarke ignores Lexa’s pleading eyes. “I can’t wait till time runs out completely.”

 

Lexa shakes her head to herself. “You can’t do this, you can’t—”

 

“Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do, Alexandria.” Clarke’s eyes burn on her like ice, and Lexa feels frozen at the choice of name. “Find someone else to ensure your fucking legacy, because I’ll be dead before I unite with you.”

 

Lexa fights the urge to throw up. “You _will_ be dead if you become a muggle, Clarke. Nial will kill you.”

 

“Let her.”

 

“ _Clarke._ You don’t know what is coming. You’re in danger.” Clarke rolls her eyes. Enough with that. Everyone keeps telling her she’s in danger, but the only time she’s felt threatened in the past few days was when that angry owl refused to let go of her paper if Clarke didn’t give it her breakfast. “You haven’t seen what I have,” Lexa tries again.

 

“Then, tell me,” Clarke challenges her. “What have you seen?”

 

“I can’t. You wouldn’t believe me.”

 

“Everyone keeps saying that!” Clarke snaps. “Go ahead, Lexa. Try me. What do you all know that I don’t?”

 

“I can’t,” Lexa says, avoiding her eyes. “You can only find out by yourself, Clarke. I’m sorry.”

 

“Yeah, cause the last time you let my find things out by myself went so well,” Clarke laughs humorlessly. Lexa glances back at her, and this time Clarke is the one who looks away, unable to face the tortured eyes looking through her soul. “Just leave me alone, Lexa. Your dearest aunt will soon find you a different candidate to keep your precious legacy intact.”

 

“It’s not about that, Clarke. It’s never been about that!” As Clarke ceases to see reason, Lexa starts losing her patience, desperation takes a hold on her when she thinks about all the wrong things that could happen. “Don’t you get it? If you keep this up, you’ll die. I’ll die, your mom will die.”

 

Clarke shrugs. “You and my mom have been dead to me ever since you lied to me, anyway.”

 

“I didn’t lie to you. I’ve never lied to you.”

 

“Pardon me,” Clarke spits. “Let me rephrase that: you’ve been dead to me ever since you didn’t tell me vital information that would have kept my father alive.”

 

“Well, what did you expect me to do?” Lexa asks helplessly.

 

“Fuck you, Alexandria,” She says, then. With as much hate as she can put on those words. “Don’t come to me like some lost owl. You know very well what you could have done. You’re the reason my father is dead. Fuck you.”

 

“Okay,” Lexa accepts with defeat. “So hate me. Hate me as much as you can. But wait until the school year is over to do so.”

 

“Wait for the school year to be over for what? So that I am forced to marry you? No, thanks.”

 

“I promise, we won’t unite,” Lexa begs her. Clarke meets her eyes again, taking in the tired dark bags under them, the quiver of Lexa’s lower lip. Her haunted eyes. “You just have to wait until then. Nothing will happen, I swear. Please. Let me do this one last thing, Clarke. Let me keep you safe from Nia.”

 

“I don’t need your protection, Lexa.”

 

“You don’t know what my aunt is capable of, Clarke.”

 

“Again,” Clarke says, exasperated. “That could change so easily if you just told me.”

 

“I can’t, Clarke. I wish I could, trust me. But it’s about the prophecy, you need to—”

 

“Enough,” Clarke takes her hands to her temples, trying to soothe the burning headache making its way inside her head. “I’m not hearing anything else about this bullshit prophecy. It’s not real, Lexa. No one can tell me who to love. The prophecy says we’re meant to be together, right? Well, I don’t love you.” Her words feel like sharp knives coming out of her mouths. She forces herself to keep speaking, if she says this outloud, then it’s more real then it’s not. “So, there, you got your proof. The prophecy is bullshit.”

 

“You can’t run away from who you are, Clarke.”

 

“No,” Clarke agrees. “Because to do that, first I have to know who I am. And your aunt has made a great job making sure I don’t.”

 

“Clarke—”

 

“Minute’s been over for long enough, Alexandria. Go away. I have to spend the next two weeks living in your house with you, you aunt and my mother. No doubt I’ll be hearing about this every single minute. So please, just go away.”

 

Lexa closes her eyes, but she gets up. She’ll let it be, for now. She’ll talk to Abby, figure something out. They’re running out of time, and Lexa finds herself more alone than ever as Clarke refuses to accept her role.

 

And, oh, how she wishes she could just spare Clarke of it.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is so so so very appreciated.
> 
> it's really late and i just wanted to leave this out here before going to bed so i'll look over it in the morning to edit out any mistakes.
> 
> come see me at @ bihedaclarke you can ask me whatever about my fics and also i usually post things to add to the characters under the story tag so if you wanna find out any headcanons or why i put certain characters in certain houses, just drop by my inbox!


	3. moondust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things are messy, so are feelings. why doesn't anyone listen to clarke? anya's a big sis sh dont tell anyone. also, there's a centaur who's name i definitely didn't google.

 

**YEAR 5 - 8th February, 2047**

 

For the seventh time that night, Clarke scans the whole Great Hall uselessly. Hundreds of robes but none the one she’s looking for. She shouldn’t even bother searching on other tables, since Lexa has never once sat away from her spot at the beginning of the Slytherin table, farthest from the entrance. Like some idiotic Slytherin students, Lexa is one of those who refused to sit anywhere but on her own table. Clarke, who can’t remember ever sitting with her house during meals, thinks she’s stupid. Though that’s not news.

 

From her seat at the Gryffindor table, she has perfect sight of Lexa’s silently claimed spot, and she can confirm without a doubt that Lexa has missed more dinners than she has not. It wouldn’t be too surprising, considering Lexa is always losing hold of time on the library. But since the beginning of the year, Clarke has noticed that the girl arrives at suspicious times at the common room. Lexa is up to something, and Clarke is not going to rest until she finds out what it is.

 

“Re ya gon eat tha?” Octavia asks with her mouth full of food.

 

Clarke sighs at the lustful look Octavia is giving her plate and offers it to her, chuckling when it’s out of her hands in half a second. “Five years later, I still don’t understand where you put all that food?”

 

Fortunately, this time Octavia swallows before speaking. “I’m a growing girl and a quidditch player. Gotta get that energy.”

 

“Sure,” Clarke snorts. Her eyes wander to the door again, and she finds nothing. There’s no Lexa at dinner tonight. There was no Lexa at dinner last night.

 

“Merlin, this food makes me want to go to the kitchens and kiss the house elves on the mouth,” Octavia says. She raises a brow at Clarke’s lack of answer, setting her fork down with a sigh. “What’s wrong?”

 

“What do you mean?” Clarke asks, pretending to be delighted by the water in her cup. “Everything’s fine.”

 

“C’mon, Clarke. There’s pudding tonight and you haven’t even touched it. What’s it?”

 

“I hadn’t noticed the pudding.” It’s only a half lie. She loves pudding, but she’s not in the mood to eat right now. “I’m just not hungry.”   
  


“Clarke.”

 

“Okay,” she sighs. “But you can’t say anything about it.” Octavia gives her a shrug and an impatient tilt of chin. “Lexa’s been acting weird lately.”

 

Octavia furrows her brows. “How is that news?”

 

“No, I mean, she’s been like missing dinner and stuff. From the beginning of the year. I thought it was weird so I’ve been sort of keeping an eye on her. She barely shows up to dinner. And also sometimes, when I stay up in the common room and go to bed late, she still hasn’t returned.”

 

“I don’t know if that’s weird, Clarke. She’s probably studying in the library till late or something.”

 

“Past curfew?” Clarke shakes her head. “Lexa’s a sucker for rules. She’s a prefect, for Merlin’s sake. She’s up to something, I’m sure.”

 

Octavia rolls her eyes, so hard that she worries for a second they’ve stuck. “Something like what? C’mon, give the girl a break, Clarke. You’re always paranoid that she’s keeping some dark mysterious secret.”

 

“I’m right this time,” she insists. “Last night I stayed up really late in the common room, okay? I know what you’re thinking and yes, I wanted to see if she was coming back at all. And when she did, she was like all sweaty and shit. And her robes were super dirty. It’s Lexa we’re talking about, she’s far too careful to get dirt on herself. Besides, you don’t get sweaty and tired from studying.”

 

“Well, have you considered…” Octavia licks her lips, a flicker of amusement shining through her eyes. “Maybe she’s got a girlfriend.”

 

“A girlfriend,” Clarke tastes the words on her mouth. It’s a bitter taste, and she shakes her head at the thought of it. “I doubt it.”

 

“Are you sure?” Octavia inquiries. “I don’t know, remember that Costia girl that was always making heart eyes at her? Maybe all that dirt and sweatiness is from their little love nest at the greenhouse. Even better, the forbidden woods. Ugh, forget that. I don’t wanna think about people getting off in the forbidden woods ever again.”

 

Clarke blinks, expressionless. “I thought Costia transferred.”

 

“Oh. That’s right, actually. What a shame, Raven used to say she was always talking about Lexa this, Lexa that. Seems like her little crush couldn’t last longer than last year. Or maybe it didn’t end. Maybe they’re secret long distance girlfriends. Lexa seems like th e silent and broody type enough to be into that.”

 

“That’s ridiculous, why wouldn’t Lexa tell me about it?” Again, she searches and searches, not finding what she’s looking for. What she finds, however, are a pair of green eyes looking right back at her. They’re not the green eyes she was hoping to find, but they will do for now. She sends a nod towards Niylah, and turns her attention back to Octavia, who’s watching her in amusement. 

 

“And why would she tell you about it?” Octavia asks pointedly. “If Lexa does have a girlfriend, you’ve got no right to be jealous. You’ve got your own share, too.”

 

Clarke rolls her eyes. “I’m not jealous, just surprised that Lexa’s capable of spending time with actual human beings, rather than sticking her nose inside every book there is in the library.”

 

Octavia drops her fork with a sigh. “And back again with the Lexa song. It’s getting old, Clarke.”

 

“Great,” Clarke huffs. “If you won’t believe me, I’ll find someone who does.”

 

She takes off, catching sight of Niylah again and sending a nod her way. She ignores Octavia calling her name and keeps walking. She walks until she arrives at an empty corridor, bare but for a large portrait of a chess queen. With a flick of her wand, the portrait opens, and she gets inside. She smoothes her robes and waits. It hasn’t been long before steps can be heard outside the secret corridor.

 

Niylah enters with a smirk on her face. Clarke really likes that smirk. It’s carefree, always matching her light features and her red robes. There’s no hesitation when Niylah approaches and grabs her hips, wasting no time in bringing their lips together. 

 

Clarke willingly complies, moaning as Niylah’s mouth bites hard down her neck. Maybe she’ll leave a mark. Clarke won’t care if she does. She wonders what face Lexa would make if she saw it. She grips at Niylah’s hair tighter, humming in approval when the girl catches her message.

 

It’s always rough. No strings, no feelings, just fun. That’s what she likes most about Niylah. It’s always easy. When Clarke wants it and how Clarke wants it. This, she can control. This, she can manage.

  
  


**SUMMER - 19 July, 2046.**

 

_ Dear Clarke, _

 

_ Darling, how is your summer going? I know you’ve only had three weeks off school but I hope you’re not slacking off on your learning. Next year will be a tough one, you will get tested on your OWLs. I suggest you go over some reading to be prepared. _

 

_ I’m afraid you are not going to like what I have to say next. Nia and I have been talking. It has come to our attention that you and Alexandria are spending less and less time together. We thought it would be best if you spent at least a week together this summer. After all, your bond has to stretch. _

 

_ I have already made arrangements with your father. Alexandria will arrive in a week. Please, do not be mad at him, I told him I would be the one to let you know. I understand that your time with your father is precious to you, which is why we decided it would be best if Alexandria was the one to visit this time. I hope you make her feel at home, as much as she does when you visit her. _

 

_ I love you, _

 

_ Mom. _

 

**20 July, 2046.**

 

_ Dear Wells, _

 

_ Did you know that Lexa’s coming to my dad’s house for a whole week? I can’t believe my mother. And I can’t believe my dad. He’s actually okay with this, you know? He’s supposed to be on my side and support me, but he’s backing my mum and telling me that “It’s only a week, Clarke. It’ll be over soon.” Whatever my mother has told him, it’s working. _

 

_ This is intolerable, I don’t want Lexa anywhere near my dad. Don’t they have enough with robbing me of my winter holidays? Must they steal summer from me, too? Ugh. I hate Lexa and I hate Nia and I hate my mother. Sometimes I think about just doing what my father did, taking the vow and becoming a muggle. That way, I wouldn’t have to put up with any of this bullshit. _

 

_ Anyway, how are you? I hope you can come to visit soon, dad’s really excited to see you. Maybe you could come over once I’m Lexa-free?? _

 

_ Miss you, _

 

_ Clarke. _

  
  


**23, July, 2046.**

 

_ Clarke, _

 

_ Please, know that I am sorry about this arrangement and did not mean to disturb your summer. I do know how much you treasure your time with your father and I tried my best to dissuade my aunt from going forward with this. I am sorry that I could not change the situation.  _

 

_ I will see you soon, _

 

_ Lexa W. _

  
  


**26th July, 2046**

 

Clarke strokes Milkshake’s head as she switches through the TV channels boringly. It’s a dull Monday afternoon, and there’s nothing worth watching apart from that channel that only promotes weird products. Despite the fact that she lives with her father the greater part of the time when she’s not at school, and her father is more a muggle than a wizard, Clarke still can’t get used to the craziness muggles put into making silly objects that don’t really differ from their less extravagant versions.

 

For the seventeenth time that dull Monday afternoon, Clarke lets out a big sigh. It almost scares Milkshake away, but the cat is too lazy to get up, so he settles with hitting her thigh with his head in protest.

 

“Little bastard,” Clarke accuses him with narrowed eyes. 

 

She can hear her father’s pacing upstairs. It’s being on going all day. Her father, she thinks bitterly, took his day off work for this. He should be spending time with her, not worrying about when-

 

“Honey, do you have everything ready?” he yells. She rolls her eyes as she listens to his footsteps carrying him downstairs. He appears through the door of the living room and leans on the sofa. “Lexa could be here any minute.”

 

She arches an eyebrow, suddenly very interested in a car commercial. “Shall I accommodate the ensuite for the guest of honor?”

 

“Clarke.”

 

The thing is, she can hear the disappointment in his voice, and she can see it in his face without needing to look at him. And it all just makes her angry, frustrated and sad.

 

“What?”

 

“Behave yourself. Lexa-”

 

“Is not your daughter,” she cuts him off, finally looking at him. “I am.” She swallows the tears back to where they came from. She’s not going to cry. “Why are you not taking my side?” She wants to shout at him. Make him feel the betrayal she feels since he let this happen. Summer is hers. Summer is theirs. And he let Abby and Nia plot to take away from her the one thing they couldn’t snuck their noses into.

 

“Clarke.” Jake closes the distance between them, sitting beside her on the couch. Milkshake chooses that moment to run off, leaving Clarke defenseless. “Of course I’m on your side. I wouldn’t pick anyone else over you. Ever,” he says seriously. He caresses her face, sending blonde wild hair back where it belongs.

 

“Then why are you okay with Lexa ruining my summer?”

 

“Baby,” he speaks in that soft voice he always uses when he’s about to tell her he knows better than her simply because he’s her father. Clarke hates that voice. “You need to understand, Lexa has as little say in this as you do.”

 

“But if she told Nia that-”

 

“You’ve known Nia since you were a child, do you really think she would care what her niece wants or doesn’t want?”

 

Clarke closes her mouth, already knowing that this battle isn’t worth fighting for. Or rather, already knowing that her father is right. Nia is the definition of pureblood royalty. Born in a family of dark wizards, but apparently, there wasn’t any evidence to convict her as a dark witch. She’s important in the wizarding world, of course, the white sheep, some call her.

 

If only they had as many dinners as Clarke has had with her, they’d all change their minds. Nia may not publicly express her hate against muggle-borns, but it’s there. Clarke has seen it more than enough time. She’s heard Nia preach long speeches about the need to cleanse the magic legacy. And what is worse, she’s seen both Lexa and her own mother stay quiet during those bigoted rants.

 

“I guess you’re right about that,” Clarke admits at last. “I still don’t want Lexa here. We’re supposed to be spending summer together, dad. They can’t ruin this, too.”

 

“They won’t,” Jake assures her. He takes her face in his arms and smiles, dimples spreading all over his face. “Be gentle, treat Lexa well, it’ll be over sooner than you think. And then we’ll go camping, would you like that? I’ll take a few days off and we’ll go to the beach, or to the mountain, whichever you prefer.”

 

“Beach, obviously.” Duh, like she’s going to miss an opportunity to sunbathe and lay under those huge umbrellas muggles plant on the sand. “Do you promise?”

 

He hugs her, and Clarke relaxes against her chest, sniffing his familiar scent. He smells like home. “Of course, I promise.”

 

A few minutes pass before a knocking signals the arrival of Clarke’s nightmare. There’s no mistaking, if it were someone from the neighbourhood, they would’ve rung the bell instead of knocking on the door. Muggles also invent very practical things, for what is worth. 

 

Jake squeezes her hand, and Clarke takes a deep breath before getting up from the couch and following her father towards the front door. She’s not sure what she’s waiting to find behind it, but the image of her mother and Lexa dressed in robes, with a whole muggle neighbourhood surrounding them, isn’t what she was expecting.

 

Lexa uncomfortably stares at her, then at Jake, and then at Abby, as if being fully aware that she doesn’t belong in this family meeting. Abby is the first one to break the tense silence, taking a step forward and enveloping Clarke in her arms. Clarke doesn’t returned the hug, her mother’s arms feel heavy on her back, and even heavier when she steps back and grasps Clarke by the shoulders.

 

“Oh, darling. I’ve missed you so much.” Abby looks at her head to toe, unable to stop a soft smile from taking over her lips. “You’re still growing up so much. You’re so beautiful, baby. How are you?”

 

“Fine,” Clarke says dryly.

 

Jake clears his throat, putting one hand on Clarke’s back surely to remind her of their previous conversation. “It’s good to see you, Abby,” he finally addresses the elephant in the room. Clarke’s not sure how long it’s been since her parents talked face to face, but if the tense staring happening at the moment is anything to go by, neither of them are comfortable with this exchange.

 

“You too, Jake.”

 

“And you must be Lexa.” That finally makes Lexa tear her eyes apart from the ground. She opens her mouth, but changes her mind and gives a simple nod in confirmation. If Jake’s warm smile surprises her, she doesn’t let it be known. “I’m glad you’re spending a few days with us. I’ve heard very good things about you.”

 

They all know that’s a lie, and Clarke shifts awkwardly at her father’s attempt to be a good host. Not that it’s not working. He’s already definitely a better host than she’s planning to be during all of Lexa’s time with them.

 

“It’s nice to meet you, sir.” Clarke can’t help but roll her eyes at Lexa’s predictable properness when the girl extends her hand at Jake and looks at him straight in the eye. She also notices how Lexa’s thin hand appears from under her large robes, and it makes her think with caught breath how much out of tune Lexa is in this scenario. For once, Lexa is the one out of her comfort zone. Although Clarke has to wonder whether Nia’s house is Lexa’s comfort zone at all.

 

“Just Jake, please.” Jake takes Lexa’s hand with both his own, in a gentle squeeze. His eyes flicker sadly at the subtle surprise she finds in his welcomeness. “And we’ve met before, but I’m afraid you were much too young to remember.”

 

At that, Abby intervenes. “I should get going, then. I’ll return next week to take Lexa back home,” she says, squeezing Lexa’s shoulder gently. “I trust you’ll make Lexa feel at home.”

 

Jake nods as Clarke simply watches her mother. With a final look at her daughter, Abby turns around and starts walking away. Then, when she’s sure no muggles are in sight, she disappears. For Clarke, it feels like she can finally breathe after holding her breath for days.

 

“Now, don’t stay out there, Lexa. Come in, let me show you to your room. We can order pizza after you’re done settling in, how does that sound?”

 

Lexa follows Jake upstairs, frowning at the word. “Um…”

 

Jake laughs and shakes his head to himself then. “Oh, right. Sorry, I forgot pizza’s a muggle luxury. Don’t worry, you’ll love it. It’s food, by the way. In case that wasn’t clear. It’s one of Clarke’s favourite meals, she guilts me into letting her eat pizza at least three times a week. So, you feel up to try it out?”

 

“Yes. If that’s what Clarke wants.”

 

Jake grins again, softer this time, like Lexa’s everything he expected, but not quite. He shows her to a door in the hall. “This is your room. Clarke’s just next door, and mine’s at the end of the hall. The bathroom is that first door we just passed. Here, have a look.”

 

Inside, Lexa finds a cosy bedroom, painted in warm blue and white. There’s a bed, a wardrobe, a desk with its chair, a window that leads to the street… She wonders if all muggle bedrooms look similar to this one. It’s nice, she decides. Lexa notices the lack of candles, but figures that’s what the lamp by the bed is for. Though there are many lamps at Hogwarts, Lexa’s always preferred the softer flicker of candles. She supposes it’s safer for muggles to use lamps, as they don’t posses the ability to just use magic in the event of a fire.

 

“I like it,” she tells Jake sincerely. “Thank you.”

 

Jake nods. “I’ll go downstairs and order that pizza while you settle your things. I take it you brought your robes with you?” Lexa nods with a frown, confused as to what she’d be wearing if she hadn’t brought her clothes with her. “You can wear whatever you want inside, but muggles aren’t used to see wizarding clothes at all, so you should avoid going outside in your robes. I’ll get Clarke to let you borrow some of her stuff.”

 

Lexa shifts her weight from one foot to the other. The last thing she wants is to be even more of an inconvenience to Clarke. “That’s not necessary. I don’t want to be trouble.”

 

“It’s no trouble at all,” Jake tells her happily.

 

She wants to believe him so badly. He reminds her of CLarke a lot, not on the attitude that’s for sure. But now she knows where Clarke’s beautiful blue eyes came from. And they’ve got the same little dimple on their chin. And the smile that Clarke reserves for her friends is the same one Jake’s sending her way right now. She wants to believe him so, so badly.

 

Pizza, Lexa learns, is the most delicious thing in the world. Someone brings them to Jake’s home, and that’s how Lexa learns what delivery food means. 

 

(She can’t help but think that her aunt would be outraged by the idea of paying other people to bring her her food. She can practically hear her voice in her head, telling her that “That’s what house-elves are for!”)

 

Jake has ordered three different kinds. They all look weird, but they taste deliciously. At least, the two Lexa has tried out do. Clarke seems to enjoy the other one particularly so she doesn’t want to take any slices away from her.

 

She shyly takes her third slice, not bothering to wait till it’s cooled down a little before taking a big bite. She has to resist the urge to moan. It really is delicious.

 

As Jake makes an effort to make idle conversation, Lexa answers every question directed to her with a side glance towards Clarke, who keeps awfully quiet the whole dinner. Until Lexa jumps on her seat when she feels something sliding along her leg. Then, Clarke bursts into laughter. A blush creeps onto Lexa’s face when she realises the thing that frightened her was none other than Milkshake.

 

Giving out a soft chuckle, nothing compared to his daughter mocking laughter, Jake smirks at Lexa. “Not a fan of cats, huh?”

 

“Um, I guess,” Lexa says, frowning at the way Clarke strokes Milkshake and tells him what a good boy he is. “He doesn’t really like me.” 

 

“Ah, well. You never know with animals.” Jake shrugs, though Lexa doesn’t miss the subtle glance he gives Clarke. “So, Lexa, I take it your Hogwarts letter arrived already? Clarke received hers a few days ago.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good, good. Maybe I could take you two to Diagon Alley sometime this week. It’s been a long time since I last was there. And you’d both do well to be prepared with enough time.”   
  


“Dad, I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Clarke says, suddenly tense at the thought of her father around so many wizards.

 

“Why not?” Jake asks with a smile, though Clarke can see it’s a fake one. His dimples don’t show up as they always do. “You need to be extra focused this year, Clarke. After all, they don’t select anyone to be a prefect.”

 

That sparks Lexa’s attention. Her heart starts beating faster as she thinks about her own prefect badge back home. If Clarke is the new Slytherin prefect, and Lexa is too, that means they’ll probably have to spend more time together in meetings and patrolling. Lexa swallows in anticipation at the reaction she knows Clarke’s going to have when she finds out.

 

“Lexa,” Jake’s voice shakes her out of her train of thought. “Are you okay? You seemed a bit pale there for a second.”

 

“No, no. I’m fine.” She gives the man her most convincing smile as she casually lets the bomb slip. “I was also chosen to be a prefect this year, that’s all.”

 

“But that’s great!” This time, Jake’s dimples are visible when he smiles, white teeth showing as she looks between Lexa and Clarke. “The headmistress really knows what she’s doing, she couldn’t have picked a better team than you two.”

 

Clarke snorts, humorlessly. She doesn’t know why her father is making such an effort. He doesn’t even know Lexa, why is he trying to please her so hard? She notices both Lexa and her father are staring at her and clears her throat. “Yeah, amazing. Completely amazing.” She adds a bittersweet smile at the end, just for Lexa, so she knows how truly excited she is at the possibility of them spending even more time together. (She might feel bad when Lexa lowers her eyes back to her plate and picks at her food. Might.)

 

Lexa spends most of her stay reading. Clarke’s not surprised to find out that she brought more books than clothes with her. She’s also not surprised to find out that Lexa’s already reading the books for next course that Clarke hasn’t even bothered to buy.

 

It’s Lexa’s second day here and Clarke thinks that maybe she can get away with riding her bike and meeting some of the children that live in the neighbourhood. Of course, as she attempts to do so without being discovered while Lexa’s in the bathroom, her father catches her.

 

“Are you leaving anywhere?” He asks, turning a page of the paper. It’s such a muggle thing for him to read the news while having breakfast before leaving for work that Clarke sometimes has trouble remembering her father is, in fact, a wizard. No, that’s wrong. Her father is not a wizard anymore. He’s a muggle. Acts like this one shouldn’t be surprising.

 

“Eh, yes?”

 

“And aren’t you taking Lexa with you?”

 

“She doesn’t want to come.” Hey, she’s not going to feel bad for lying to her father in order to get a little bit of freedom. (She does.)

 

“Ah. Did she tell you that, though?” Jake raises an eyebrow at her as he sets his paper down, and that’s how Clarke knows she’s lost the battle.

 

“No.”

 

“Then go ask.”

 

“She’s in the bathroom, and she’s been in there for ages. I think it’s better if I just leave and maybe come back later.”

 

“Or,” he gives her a pointed look, “you could go upstairs, knock on the door, and politely ask if anything’s wrong.”

 

“Dad,” she whines, with her five-year-old voice she only still uses with him and with Wells.

 

“Daughter,” he whines back in order to mock her, earning an eye roll.

 

“You know,” she tells him, more dryly than she had actually meant it sound, “maybe someday you can tell me why you of all people are forcing me to go through this hell.”

 

As she storms out of the kitchen, Clarke misses the way her father rubs a tired hand over his face, the way he whispers to himself. “Maybe someday,” and the words taste in Jake’s mouth as heavy as the burden he’s carried for fourteen years.

 

Somehow, Clarke manages to knock on the bathroom door instead of punching her frustration away on it. When there’s no answer, she frowns. Surely Lexa would be okay. But what if she’s not? She grabs the handle, biting her lip for a second before opening the door. Out of all the scenarios taking place in her imagination, she must admit that the one where Lexa’s standing naked in nothing but a towel was not one of them. (This time, at least.)

 

“Sorry,” she says, with her eyes still glued to the girl. “You were just taking really long and I… Em, what the fuck are you doing, Lexa?” She asks, when she notices Lexa’s hair is still dry. Has she been standing there in nothing but a towel this whole time.

 

Lexa raises her chin, as if to fight the embarrassment away. “I was trying to figure out how the standing bath works.”

 

Clarke’s mouth opens in confusion. “The standing bath… oh! No, no, that’s called a shower you idiot.”

 

“Shower,” Lexa frowns, tasting the new word in her mouth. “I stepped inside but there was no water.”

 

“That’s because is a muggle shower, genius,” Clarke sighs in exasperation. “It’s not like the baths you’re used to, okay? Water doesn’t just magically start pouring in once you’re inside.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Lexa says, her face filled with utter confusion. “Then how does one… shower?”

 

Clarke closes the distance to the shower, biting her lip as Lexa’s confused face keeps staring at her all the way. It’s honestly the most adorable thing sh- no. How can Lexa not know what a shower is? Merlin, she may be a pure blood but she goes to a school full of muggles. Oh, right. Lexa doesn’t have any friends that could have told her about this.

 

Clarke sighs at the shower and turns back to Lexa. “It’s pretty much like a sink, but there’s more water and it comes from this thing up here,” she explains, pointing to the shower head. “You can leave it there and just let the water fall or you can grab it and take it around your body. And these,” she touches the taps, “are what you use to make the water appear. Like I said, think of a sink. You turn the tap, water comes out. Blue for cold and red for hot. Got it?”

 

Lexa nods, clutching at her towel with a little less desperation. “Thank you, Clarke. It really is a brilliant invention. Shower. It’s a cleverer use of water.”

 

Clarke shrugs, looking at Lexa over her shoulder as she closes the door. “Don’t let your aunt hear you saying that.”

 

**YEAR 5 - 16th MARCH, 2047**

 

The night is dark, cold, and the air smells like mud. Lexa can hear many different growls. Sometimes far away, sometimes near. She clutches her wand in her hand and continues walking further into the woods despite the sinking feeling at the bottom of her stomach that keeps telling her to run back to the castle.

 

Her lumos spell barely casts any light, which is good, the less she can see, the less other creatures can see her. And her eyes have long since get used to the darkness. She’s been training in complete darkness for months now, since the beginning of her fifth year. Her lessons with Anya get more and more tiring and dangerous each time, but Lexa hasn’t had an incident since that one time. Not only that, but she also knows she can easily beat any of her classmates, including older students. Thanks to Anya, she’s learned more than enough to overpower a seventh-year-student. Though when she’s in class, she needs to pretend she’s as new to the spells she learned months ago as her classmates are. No one can know she spends her nights like this, training hard, sometimes to the point of unsafety. But that’s how she likes it. 

 

A red flicker of light comes out of nowhere, advancing towards her at lighting speed. Lexa has just enough time to point her wand at it and cast a protego, making a bright shield appear before her to protect her from any harm. She angrily clenches her jaw. The spell nearly reaches her, she should have been more careful.

 

Lexa’s much more focused now that she’s aware of her close slip. She calmly senses a new spell thrown at her, this time coming from behind her, and much, much stronger. “Protego!” she yells. Although the strength of the spell throws her back as her feet struggle to stand firm on the ground, she manages to block it successfully.

 

“Good,” she hears Anya’s voice.

 

She finally sees her tutor as she turns around. Anya gives her a satisfied nod, and Lexa relaxes. She puts her wand down and uses the sleeve of her robes to wipe the sweat away from her forehead. It’s about time this session was over. They’ve been at it for hours now, Lexa can only think of finally going to bed.

 

Suddenly, her feet are pulled up without her consent, and she finds herself floating in the air, hanging upside down. She scolds at Anya’s smirk, of course her tutor would think it’d be funny to make Lexa think they were done before playing dirty by casting a silent levi corpus.

 

“What’s rule number one, Lexa?”

 

Lexa rolls her eyes. “Never let your guard down.” Anya shakes her wrist and Lexa is put down to the ground again. She shakes the dirt off her robes, though that proves to be an useless action, as she’s still covered in filth. “You used a nonverbal spell,” she says, narrowing her eyes at Anya.

 

“Yes, something you should have perfected by now.”

 

It’s Lexa’s turn to smirk now, however, she hides her amusement and chooses to focus all her remaining strength in casting a nonverbal spell of her on. Only when Anya’s wand is sent flying out of the woman’s hand, does Lexa’s smile make its way along her tired face.

 

Anya bursts in laughter, walking towards the direction her wand fell and picking it up. “It will do you no good to be so cheeky.” Lexa shrugs, now completely certain that bedtime hour is closer than ever. “I think you’re ready to start with Legilimency and Occlumency.”

 

Lexa barely contains her gasp. “Mind-reading magic? But you said Indra told you not to teach me that.”

 

“Indra changed her mind,” Anya says. “She didn’t say why, but she does that a lot. One gets used to it. Don’t look so excited, though. It’s not going to be a pleasant experience.”

 

“I gave up on pleasant experiences a long time ago,” Lexa shrugs. “One gets used to it.”

 

Anya shakes her head, turning away from Lexa so that she can conceal her smirk. It’s a proud one. Lexa’s grown so much in these past two years. She’s a phenomenal young witch, of that Anya has no doubt. Still carrying herself with dignity despite the air of loneliness and sadness she can’t seem to shake off. Still with her chin high. Still too damn small for her robes.

 

It’s the sound of a branch being broken what brings Anya back to reality. She wastes no time in adopting an offensive position and uses her free arm to cover Lexa. “Stay behind me,” she orders.

 

Lexa knows better that to disobey, but that doesn’t keep her from following her mentor’s example and raising her wand, awaiting.

 

“I mean you no harm,” says a deep voice. It’s strong, much more than what it would be if it belonged to a human.

 

“Who are you?” Anya asks. “Come out of wherever you are.”

 

The creature advances, showing itself. Lexa’s eyes go wide, and her breath catches in her throat. It’s a centaur. She’s only ever seen centaurs in history books. She had studied that all the centaurs emigrated the forbidden woods of Hogwarts before the Ice War started, unwilling to see their fate tangled with yet more bloodshed. This one is apparently male, with wild brown hair covering his body and his features. His face resembles that of a man, but much more ancient, much more wise.

“My name is Zephyr,” he says, taking a few steps towards them. “I have waited a long time to meet you, Alexandria.”

 

At the mention of her name, Lexa has her wand pointing with ferocity to the creature. Anya rests her hand on Lexa’s arm and forces her to lower her wand. Lexa agrees reluctantly, her eyes glaring at the centaur with distrust. 

 

“How do you know my name? And what do you want from me?”

 

Zephyr blinks, as if he just got asked to most obvious question in the world. “Those magical creatures who do not know of your existence are few and ignorant. You are much of a legend among my people. A living one, at that.”

 

A legend among the centaurs? Lexa frowns.She tries hard to think of anything but the pit that’s forming in her stomach. “Why?”   
  


“I’m afraid that is a question I do not have time for. More pressing issues are at hand. I have come to warn you, Alexandria.”

 

“Warn me from what?”

 

“Lexa, go back to the castle. I’ll handle this,” Anya says, guiding Lexa back by the shoulder.

 

“No,” Lexa shakes Anya’s hand off. “He said he’s come to talk to me, Anya. I want to hear what he’s got to say.”

 

Lexa watches as Anya’s jaw clenches, and she knows she’ll hear about this for days and days, But it’s worth it when Anya lets out a sigh and nods, glaring at the centaur in question.

 

“There is a hungry creature in these woods,” Zephyr says. “Hungry for blood. It grows more desperate as days pass and it senses you getting stronger. It’s waiting. Waiting for you. It’s hungry for your blood.”

 

Lexa swallows, “Well, there’s a lot of creatures in these woods, so I-”

 

“That’s enough,” Anya snaps. “Lexa, return to the castle. Now.” This time, Anya’s eyes give no room for arguing, and Lexa nods, but opens her mouth to ask a final question. However, Anya beats her to it. “I’ll talk to Zephyr,” Anya addresses the centaur, “if what you have to say is of any relevance, I’ll pass it to the headmistress. If Lexa’s truly in danger, no one could protect her better than Indra. There’s no need to worry a kid over a what if.”

 

Lexa’s mouth opens in protest at the insult. She’s not a kid. And Anya’s not that much older than her anyway. “Anya, I-”

 

“Castle. Now, Lexa.”

 

She tries to search Anya’s eyes, but they’re glued to the centaur. In the end, Lexa admits defeat with a long sigh, and begins the tiring journey back to the castle. These past minutes had made her forget how tired she actually is. And dirty, so, so dirty. She needs to take an urgent shower when she’s back in the Slytherin dungeons.

 

The cold returns in her lonely walk back. She thinks about the centaur Zephyr, and about what he said. A creature… waiting for blood, for her blood? Lexa shakes her head, surely it’s just a nonsense. Centaurs have a flair for the dramatics. She’s read about them a lot. She’s confident there’s not much to worry about, and Anya will tell her anyway if something important is going on.

 

Lexa almost cries of relief when she reaches the door of the castle. She has to be careful and silent, though. The only person that has authorised her to these secret night endeavours is Indra, and the Headmistress won’t be pleased to find out Lexa’s been caught red handed. She’s about to draw her wand out to cast a silencing charm when a familiar voice takes her by surprise.

 

“Milkshake? C’mon pretty boy, where are you? Milkshake?”

 

“Clarke?” Lexa asks, eyes squirting in the darkness. She spots the girl as she turns the corner, surprising her so bad that Clarke jumps and takes a hand to her chest.

 

“Merlin!” She gasps. When she’s composed herself, she gives Lexa a very suspicious look. “What the hell are you doing here at this time?”

 

Lexa licks her lips. “I could ask you the same thing, Clarke.”

 

“Well, I’m looking for my cat, who’s been missing for days, even though he always comes back to me during the night,” Clarke says, crossing her arms. Lexa knows that’s true, she’s noticed Clarke worrying over Milkshake for the past few days. “What’s your excuse?”   
  


“I was patrolling,” Lexa lies, without missing a beat.

“Patrolling, really?” Clarke rolls her eyes. “That’s the best you can come up with, Lexa? Your patrolling rounds are with Wells. Where is he?”

 

Lexa tilts her chin high, meeting Clarke’s eyes with her own. “What I do is really none of your business, Clarke. You’ve said so yourself many times.”

 

Clarke snorts. “Don’t worry. I don’t care what you’re up to, I’m just worried you’ll lower our house points by doing dumb shit in the middle of the night.”

 

“You have as much chance to lower our house points as I do right now. We’re both out of curfew, Clarke,” Lexa deadpans. She can see the irritated movement of Clarke’s jaw that follows her statement. She sighs, deciding to be the one to give in, as clearly Clarke isn’t going to. And it’s not like she’s not used to it by now. “It’s best if we just go back to our rooms and rest. It’s late.”

 

“You go back to your bed,” Clarke snaps, walking away from Lexa. “I’m not going anywhere without Milkshake.”

 

Lexa’s eyes widen in surprise, though she doesn’t really know what for, Clarke always does as she pleases. But it’s like Lexa’s going to let her wander off in the middle of the night after what Zephyr said. “Clarke, c’mon. Be realistic, there’s little chance you’ll find him now. He’s probably asleep somewhere. Let’s go to bed, and I promise I’ll help you look for him in the morning.”

 

“I don’t need your help,” Clarke says, not stopping. She continues to walk towards the forbidden woods, looking more decided as the trees get closer.

 

“Are you serious right now,” Lexa whispers to herself. She runs after Clarke, and walks by her side when she catches up.

 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

 

“You want to look for your cat? Be my guest,” Lexa says, ignoring the way Clarke’s staring at her in hatred. “I’m coming with you. It’s not safe to be in the woods alone, much later during the night.”   
  


“So what were you doing in there by yourself?”

 

“I wasn’t by myse-” Lexa catches herself halfway through the sentence, but it’s too late. Damn Clarke.

 

“So you admit it,” Clarke says, the smirk in her voice audible. “You were in the forbidden woods.”

 

“I never said that.”

 

“For Merlin’s sake, Lexa. Just tell me. Were you meeting with someone?” Clarke stops dead in her tracks, boring into Lexa’s eyes. The moonlight illuminates her face, and Lexa soon forgets that they’re standing in the middle of the most dangerous place in Hogwarts, where a centaur explicitly told her there was a creature lurking for her blood. She forgets all that, because Clarke’s blue eyes fit perfectly with the dim blue light the moon is casting over them. Because Clarke is directly looking at her, close enough for Lexa to lean and press her lips-

 

No. That’s something Lexa would never do. That’s something Clarke would never want, and so Lexa’s going to make sure it never happens. Her mouth hangs open, dry. She knows Clarke’s waiting for an answer, but she’s forgotten the question. She can’t believe her luck when a noise catches Clarke’s attention, and the girl forgets about her. (She’s not that much happy about that.)

 

“Milkshake? Is that you?”

 

Lexa looks around, wand in hand. She reaches a tentative hand for Clarke. “Clarke, it may not be a great idea to shout.”

 

“Milkshake! C’mon, where are you?”

 

Another sound to their left answers her, and Clarke runs off to it. Lexa curses to herself, taking off after her. She tries to warn Clarke, but she can barely keep up with her as it is, nearly missing her blonde mane more than a few times. When Clarke stops at last, Lexa collides against her back. She’s about to protest and tell Clarke off for wandering into the woods alone like that, but Clarke quickly catches her and presses Lexa against her side.

 

Lexa’s right to fear something must be wrong if Clarke’s choosing to be physically close to her out of her own will. Surely enough, Clarke’s trying to guard them both of the incredibly big wolf that’s showing its teeth to them. There a lot of teeth, Lexa notices as she points her wand at it. 

 

Clarke draws her wand out too, and Lexa thinks it’s a sweet irony that she’s right-handed and Clarke’s left-handed, because Clarke grabs her hand in the tightest grip. “That doesn’t seem like a normal wolf,” Clarke whispers, trying to mask the shaking of her voice.

 

“No, it really doesn’t.” Lexa swallows, remembering once again Zephyr’s words. Could this be the creature he was talking about? She focuses on the feeling of Clarke’s hand against her own, finding a new strength on it.

 

Lexa’s worried for a second the Clarke’s grip is going to break her hand when the wolf growls and Clarke moves impossibly closer to her. Somehow, she manages to push her feelings aside and think about what’s really important here and now: their lives.

 

The wolf is ready to launch at them, Lexa’s the first to react when it jumps. “Protego!” She yells, producing her well-known bright shield in which the creature slams.

 

It seems stunned for a minute, but recovers with a wild shake of its head. Lexa grits her teeth, knowing it hasn’t had enough. “Desmaius!” She yells this time, but the creature avoids the attack as it dodges to the side and opens its mouth to jump at them again. This time, Lexa has no time to react. She watches in horror as a jaw full of teeth opens wide in front of her, and tries to shield Clarke as much as possible with her own body.

 

“Confundus!” The spell hits the wolf smoothly, throwing it to the ground. It affects it greatly, as it starts whining the second it opens its eyes again. The dark creature runs a few circles, colliding against trees and stones. Then it runs away from them, growling as it goes.

 

Lexa has no time to wonder who their mystery saviour was before Anya is sticking up her nose, glaring angrily at her. Now she’s really never going to hear the end of this day.

 

“What the hell were you thinking, Lexa?” Anya asks, voice calm and a perfectly arched eyebrow. Lexa knows she’s in hot water. “I thought was clear when I told you to return to the castle.”

 

Lexa swallows, hard. “I’m sorry, Anya, I-”

 

“It’s my fault, actually.” Clarke steps in, making room between her and Lexa but not letting Lexa’s hand go. “I lost my cat. I wanted to come and look for him. Luckily, I bumped into Lexa and she came along. I should’ve listened to her when she told me it wasn’t safe. If it weren’t for her, I’d be greatly hurt right now.”

 

Clarke pronounces each word like it’s perfectly rehearsed, and Lexa almost believes she means every single thing she’s said. Almost.

 

Anya glances at their joined hands, not even trying to hide her indiscretion. “You must be Clarke Griffin.”

 

Clarke does take her hand away from Lexa’s then, wiping it on her robe. Lexa does the same, if only to pretend she’s not affected by the loss. It’s colder now without Clarke’s reassuring warmth against her.

 

“Go,” Anya says at last. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

 

“Anya,” Lexa tries again. “I’m sorry.”

 

Anya shakes her head. “Don’t apologise to me. It’s your own life you were putting at risk. I’ll escort you two to the door, in case you get any more bright ideas.”

 

The walk back, the final one this time, is rooted in an uncomfortable silence. Anya walks ahead of them, her disappointment evident in every step she takes. Clarke follows, glancing every now and then to look over at Lexa with a frown, maybe to ask her if she’s okay, maybe to ask her what the hell is going on, maybe to ask her what the hell is wrong with her.

 

She doesn’t know the answer to none of those questions, Lexa thinks.

 

When Anya finally leaves them, at the door like promised, Lexa wastes no time in walking past Clarke, knowing she’ll be bombarded by questions in any second.

 

True to her nature, Clarke’s voice echoes in the dark empty halls, only accompanied by their footsteps. “Who was that?” She asks.

 

Exhausted and with no will no lie, Lexa decides to come clean. “Anya. My mentor.”

 

“Your mentor?” Clarke’s confusion has Lexa rolling her eyes. Of course she’s confused, it’s not like she takes an interest in Lexa’s life. “Since when do you have a mentor?”

 

“Since that snake incident.”

 

“Two years, are you serious?” They’ve reached the dungeons, and Clarke keeps her voice low as Lexa enters the password to the common room. “Is that why you’re always missing during dinner?” She ignores Clarke as she walks directly to her room, thanking Merlin for putting her in Slytherin, the only house with single rooms available. “Lexa,” Clarke grabs her by the arm and turns her away, eyes flickering with the closes thing to worry Lexa’s ever seen in them. “Two years. Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

Lexa burns with anger at the stupidity of the question. “I didn’t have any reasons to think you’d care. Quite the contrary, actually.”

 

Lexa opens the door to her dorm and steps in, if only to avoid Clarke’s frozen face. She thinks about closing the door on her face, but then remembers something. “I trust you won’t tell my aunt anything about this.”

 

Clarke face is somewhat pale, but that must be the cold, Lexa thinks. The only thing that matters if the shake of head Clarke gives her.

 

“Good,” Lexa says, effectively slamming her door in Clarke’s face. If that feels rewarding, it’s merely a second.

 

She’s on the verge of tears, almost giving in and going back to Clarke and apologise for her behaviour, swear to Merlin that she didn’t mean to hurt Clarke in any way. But as she takes her sweaty and dirty robes off, with the very little strength she has left, Lexa thinks Clarke has no right to complain about anything.

 

That doesn’t make her sleep any better.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's late, i just finished writing this, and there are probably many mistakes. but it's been so long since i last updated, it didn't seem fair to make the wait any longer. the only excuse i can give you is that i'll be done with classes next week, and i plan on writing lots during the summer. or at least trying to.
> 
> anyways, remember to look at the dates to have a grasp of the timeline. and please, please, please, tell me everything you thought of the chapter! i'll gladly read your comments, you have no idea how much they can spur motivation. so please, review, don't hesitate.
> 
> if you feel confused by the story, that's okay. it means i'm doing something right. i mean, this is not a sherlock holmes story whatsoever, but if i chose to write in this date format, it's because i want you to feel confused, just like lexa and clarke are! (not to the point of not understanding anything, but, you know...)
> 
> also, here's my tumblr in which i post things about my fics sometimes, and where you can ask anything regarding the fics. and also, if anyone's interested, i may be posting a playlist with songs that remind me of the story in a few days, so follow me for updates and leave a song if you are thinking of one! 
> 
> http://bihedaclarke.tumblr.com/


	4. let the pictures soak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lexa finds out some stuff, and she's more confused now. clarke's a mess, and raven's queen of interrupting things.

 

  
  


**YEAR 1 - 1st September, 2042**

 

The number of people crowding the train station overwhelms Lexa. Not because there are far too many of them, but because they all stare at her at some point, before taking in the tall and slender figure standing beside her and hurrying away. Lexa’s not surprised by that reaction. Even after eleven years of living with Nia, she still has the urge to run away sometimes. 

 

Her aunt is intimidating, in both her looks and the way she carries herself. Her hair is always up in the most perfect of buns, which only makes her look impossibly taller. Her face is always serious, impassible, all sharp edges and ice-cold eyes. That icing look, Lexa thinks, has nothing to do with Clarke’s blue, which feels like the sky on a summer dawn.

 

“I expect to receive an owl by tomorrow morning,” Nia tells her, “informing me of yours and Clarke’s placement in Slytherin.”

 

Lexa nods, determined. She knows Nia won’t accept any other house than Slytherin. But Lexa’s confident that’s the house she’ll be placed in. She’s read the books about Hogwarts history, she knows what to expect of each house. Not only does she fit perfectly in Slytherin, but she also knows that she’s got no option but to choose Slytherin. Yes, she’s read the part about Harry Potter choosing his house, so if things don’t go as her aunt wants, she can always choose, she finds comfort on that.

 

Still, there’s a bitter voice in the back of her brain that tells her to let the hat put her where she’d fit. But the mere thought of what Nia would do if she found out Lexa’s anything but a Slytherin sends violent shivers down her spine.

 

The only calming thing about this moment is Abby’s presence. Clarke’s mother is sort of a constant in Lexa’s life. Despite Abby having her own house, she stays at Nia’s mansion more often than not. Lexa knows that that is because Nia requests Abby during dinner, and Abby always complies. That’s something Lexa’s never understood, because Abby and Nia don’t seem to like each other, in spite of the amount of time they spent together. Then again, neither do Clarke and she, but that’s a complete different story.

 

Speaking of Clarke, she’s arrived at last. She’s coming with a man, who Lexa assumes to be her dad. As they get closer, Abby puts a hand on Lexa’s shoulder and squeezes. Lexa wonders why Abby doesn’t go to greet Clarke’s dad, but shakes her head as she thinks that Abby never talks about him, so the most obvious reason is that they didn’t part on good terms. Clarke and her dad stop for a second, absorbed in their conversation, Lexa feels Nia growing impatient by her side, and takes a look at the giant clock in the wall only to discover there’s only a few minutes left before the train leaves.

 

Fortunately, Clarke waves her dad goodbye a few seconds later and starts walking towards them. It’s in that moment that Abby finally moves in her daughter’s direction and envelopes her in a tight hug, which Clarke doesn’t seem very involved in returning. There’s a bored look on her face that Lexa’s been picturing in her head the whole summer. Sometimes, Lexa thinks it's for show, other times, especially those who involve her, Lexa isn't quite sure.

 

A long, loud horn comes from the train, signaling the last chance to get passengers in, as the clock on the wall of the station marks eleven o’clock.

 

“You'll exchange pleasantries later,” Nia says, clearly displeased by the fact that the girls haven't boarded the train yet.

 

Lexa doesn’t have the will to say goodbye to her aunt before following Clarke and Abby to the train. She waits respectfully as Abby hugs her daughter one last time, and then, to her complete surprise, Abby takes Lexa into her arms too. Lexa can’t help but to feel uncomfortable, hugging is a weird sensation. Eventually, her arms relax enough to hug Abby back.

 

“Be brave,” Abby whispers in her ear, too low for Clarke to hear. “And strong. Clarke’s going to be difficult, we both know that. But you two need to take care of each other, Lexa.”

 

Abby breaks the hug, giving a gentle pat on Lexa’s shoulders. Lexa nods in a silent promise and goes back to Clarke, who’s predictably tapping her foot against the floor, impatiently, and holding a cat in her hands. Lexa blinks, surprised by the animal.

 

“Is that yours, Clarke?”

 

“No, I just stole it,” Clarke says, voice dripping in a sarcasm too obvious to be proper sarcasm. “Of course it’s mine.”

 

Inside, the train is far larger than Lexa imagined. The compartments are endless, but so are the students. They walk and walk but every single one is crowded, or occupied by older students neither of them want to sit with.

 

“What’s its name?” Lexa asks, trying to keep up with Clarke, who pushes through the students without thinking twice. For a long time, Lexa’s worried that Clarke’s just going to leave her to her luck and find a compartment of her own. In fact, that would have been much less surprising than the fact that Clarke grabs her hand and pushes her inside a compartment which is fortunately empty but for a boy who, judging by his nervous looks, seems to be a first year, as well.

 

“His name’s Milkshake. My father gave him to me,” Clarke says. Then, she waves to the boy. “Is it okay if we sit here?”

 

He looks at them and smiles, warmly. “Sure. I’m Wells Jaha,” he says.

 

Clarke’s eyes widen. “Jaha as in Minister of Magic Jaha?”

 

The boy fidgets nervously in his seat. “Um, yes. That’s my dad.”

 

“My name’s Alexandria Woods,” Lexa says, trying to help the boy out of his awkwardness. “But Lexa’s fine.”

 

Wells knows who she is, of course. That name is unmistakable, but so is his. However, Alexand-... Lexa’s fame can’t be compared to his father’s in any way. He realises he’s stayed silent for too long as Lexa grows more anxious in her seat, and that makes him feel terrible, because she was trying to give an out to him.

 

Luckily, this time it’s Clarke who avoids the uncomfortable silence. “I’m Clarke Griffin,” she says. “I think our parents were friends.”

 

Wells nods, she’s right. His dad has told him about Jake and Abby Griffin countless of times, about how they fought together in the war. A war in which his mom died, when he was too little to remember her. He knows who Lexa is, and who Clarke is, and the role they played in the ending of the war, and suddenly he feels as if these two girls sitting opposite him are a secret too ancient and important for him to know, and not just two eleven-year-old girls.

 

“So, um… what houses do you expect to be put into?” He asks, in an attempt to grasp some kind of normality. “I think it might be Hufflepuff for me, but my dad says Ravenclaw fits me better,” he shrugs. “I’m fine with either of the four, honestly.”

 

“I’m going to be in Slytherin,” Lexa says in a serious voice. She can feel Clarke rolling her eyes next to her, which only encourages her to keep her chin high and bathe herself in new found determination.

 

“I want to be in Gryffindor, like my dad,” Clarke says.

 

Lexa frowns, confused. This is new to her, Clarke’s supposed to be in Slytherin, like her. Nia won’t allow any other house. She swallows the lump on her throat that’s forming while she imagines having to write a letter to her aunt explaining why Clarke’s not in Slytherin, with Lexa, as Nia told them to be. She can only wait until they arrive in Hogwarts and hope that the hat has a different say in this.

 

If Wells notices the anxious look on Lexa’s face and the rebelling one on Clarke’s, he doesn’t say anything.

  
  


**YEAR 4 - 30th April, 2046**

 

Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop is a place Lexa’s gotten very acquainted with in the last months. She’s not a fan of tea, she hates it actually. But Costia loves it and insists in coming to this same place every single Hogsmeade visit. And it’s not like Lexa can ever deny Costia anything.

 

They’ve been Potions partners for a long time, since they started their fourth year. Lexa couldn’t says that she’d exactly noticed the Ravenclaw girl before, but she sure did as soon as Costia introduced herself with the kindest of smiles. She was charming and friendly, and Lexa was lonely, so it only seemed natural that their partnership would turn into something different than a friendship.

 

It was really slow at first. Lexa was too oblivious to notice any of the subtle hints Costia left her. Costia was beautiful and so very different from Clarke. And the more Lexa thought of Costia, the less she thought of Clarke. Costia soon became the light in her lonely days, something to look forward to, something that Lexa could have just for the sake of having.

 

Costia asked her out on a Friday, nearly two months ago. Lexa kissed Costia for the first time in the same spot of the tea shop she's sitting right now. Her first kiss, tender like the first rays of sunlight of the summer. In this short span of time, Lexa has discovered that she really likes kissing. Kissing feels nice, and being kissed by someone as beautiful as Costia is the best thing Lexa’s ever felt.

 

“You know, I was kinda worried at first that you hated me,” Costia says, making patterns of sugar on their table. “You were all ‘No, you don’t stir the cauldron that way’ and ‘No, you don’t hold the knife that way’. I was honestly worried that you’d ask for a different partner.”

 

Lexa blushes at Costia’s teasing smile. The truth is, her first attempts at having a conversation with her had been far from successful. In fact, they’re some of the most embarrassing memories she’s got. But hey, she’s sitting with a cute girl in a… cute tea shop so, who’s the real winner?

 

“You are kind of bad at Potions,” Lexa teases back. “Excellent at Charms, on the other hand.”

 

“Well, we can’t all get outstandings at everything, can we? Oh, except you, of course.” Costia smiles as she leans in the kiss her, and Lexa gets lost in the feeling.

 

Yeah, definitely. She loves kissing. Costia’s lips are soft, and more often than not there’s a cheekiness in them that makes Lexa feel normal, like any other of her teenager would. Costia smells like oranges, and Lexa likes oranges very much. And Costia’s kind, and always treats her well. Never gives her the cold shoulder, even on the days that Lexa’s distant and closed off. Never snaps at her, never leaves her with her word in her mouth, not even when she’s angry. Lexa doesn’t know what she did to deserve this.

 

“Someone just got here,” Costia murmurs against her lips. Lexa frowns slightly and chases after her for more. “And she’s really bothered by us, apparently. She can’t stop staring.”

 

Lexa opens her eyes lazily and is about to ask what Costia means but she finds her mouth dry as she comes across Clarke’s eyes at the entrance of the shop. After a long moment, Clarke breaks the contact, pulling someone’s hand to sit at the farthest table possible. Lexa recognises the boy who’s with her, he’s a hufflepuff two years older. His name is Finn, he plays quidditch and two weeks ago he was forced to tie his hair during a game because it kept blocking his vision and he sent himself to the hospital wing when he collided against a post. Lexa’s never thought much of him, she’s never even spoken to him, but suddenly she feels an inexplicable disdain towards him.

 

“Sweetie, we can go somewhere else,” Costia murmurs.

 

That snaps Lexa back to the real world, “What? No, no, why would you say that?”

 

“You’re upset that she’s here,” Costia says, though she doesn’t seem angry or sad. Lexa’s told her the basics about her complicated situation with Clarke. Well, a bit more than the basics. Everyone knows the basics: Lexa’s a nightblood, there’s a prophecy involving Clarke and Lexa, they’re in an arranged marriage. Lexa’s told Costia how they can’t stand each other, or rather, how Clarke can’t stand her, so Costia knows there’s nothing between them, but she also knows their arranged union isn’t as any other, and they can’t simply call it off as any other family would.

“I’m not… thrilled,” Lexa admits. “But we don’t have to leave because of me.”

 

Costia sighs with a sad smile that makes Lexa frown. She puts her hand on Lexa’s cheek, and Lexa instantly leans on the warmth of the gesture.

 

“Are you in love with her?” Costia asks, though it doesn’t really feel like a question.

 

Lexa frowns. “I love you,” she says, and it’s completely true. She loves Costia, she really does. She loves Costia’s toothy smile and Costia’s dark eyes, and the way they shine when she talks about wands and her dream of being a wandmaker one day, or maybe a reporter for The Quibbler.

 

“I know that, sweetie. I love you, too,” Costia smiles. “But that wasn’t the question.”

 

Are you in love with her? Her first instinct is to scream. To yell from the top of her lungs that no, she’s not in love with Clarke Griffin. Not after the way Clarke’s treated her her whole life. She’s not in love with Clarke Griffin, in fact, she’s got a very beautiful girlfriend whom she likes to kiss very much. 

 

Something behind Costia catches her eye, and she’s caught once again in a staring contest with the girl in question. Clarke holds her ground with a heated glance, until she’s the one to break it once again, this time by engaging that Finn boy in a wild makeout session. Lexa tears her eyes from them and returns to Costia, who’s watching her pointedly.

 

Her first instinct is to lie, but the beautiful girl before her deserves so, so much more than that. “I don’t know,” she says, and it’s the most honest answer she can offer.

 

Costia shakes her head to herself and, for Lexa’s sake, she leans in to press their lips together in a soft kiss. “It’s fitting, you know. The two of you. You’d have to be a fool not to see it.”

 

Lexa doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t have the words. For whatever reason, though, Costia isn’t waiting for an answer, she’s just waiting for Lexa to get up because, as she excitedly mentions, they can’t go back to the castle without stopping by Honeydukes.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**YEAR 6 - 10th March, 2048**

 

Lexa’s running against the clock, as usual. She’s got three essays due tomorrow and she needs to finish them before dinner time, or else she won’t be able to finish them at all. She can’t put off her lessons with Anya to do homework, she’s well aware of that. She used to be able to manage her time perfectly, but it being her sixth year and with Anya’s lessons getting more and more demanding, Lexa’s found herself with an overdue paper more than once.

 

But trying to get the Potions and the Transfiguration essay done at the same time isn't going to do her any good, she realises as she goes over a paragraph that mixes the ingredients of the Draught of Living Death with the dangers of using the avis spell indoors. She slams her book onto the table out of frustration, thanking Merlin for her early choosing of this secluded corner of the library.

 

It’s past dinner time when she manages to successfully finish her Transfiguration and Runes work, but she still has the Potions essay to get done and Anya’s training starts in half an hour. WIth a sigh she accepts that she won’t be making it to the great hall in time. The new professor, Pike, has really taking a liking into making her life miserable, and Lexa’s not about to give him the satisfaction of asking for extra time to do homework.

 

She doesn’t realise how hungry she actually is until the delicious smell of food reaches her. She must be hallucinating, because there’s no way food got inside the library. But if, by any chance, she could grab a bite… Her stomach seems to agree with her, as it gives out the loudest of growls, making Lexa feel embarrassed even though there’s no one around to hear it.

 

Or so she thinks, because a sudden laughter appears out of nowhere, making her jump on her seat.

 

“Who’s there?” she asks, a shade of pink covering her cheeks.

 

“It’s just me, tell your stomach to back off.”

 

More laughter follows the statement, and Lexa rolls her eyes as she sees Clarke walking towards her from the end of the hall. However, the sweet sight of a tray of food with chicken and oh, merlin, is that cheese pie? Yeah, definitely that makes Lexa feel less ashamed.

 

“It wasn’t that loud, there’s just a lot of echo in here.”

 

“Right.”

 

“I smelled the food.”

 

“Clearly.” Finally, finally Clarke’s standing before her, arms heavy with the sweetest of scents Lexa’s ever imagined. “You weren’t at the great hall and it’s the third time this week you’ve skipped dinner.”

 

Lexa’s mouth waters. “Is that all for me?”

 

“Well, yes. I don’t see anyone else around here.” Clarke smiles shyly, something not at all normal for her. Clarke’s never shy about anything, Lexa would know. “I might dig into that pie, though.”

 

“No et chans,” Lexa says, with her mouth already full. It makes Clarke laugh again, this time in a delighted way, not the mocking one she was using earlier. Clarke’s laughter is as joyful as birds singing in the summer, and Lexa nearly chokes on her chicken. She swallows her food down her throat hard, this might be a sweet relief but she still has an essay to get done in less than thirty minutes. “How did you manage to sneak all this in the library?”

 

“The kitchen elves really like me,” Clarke shrugs.

 

“You’re going to get in big trouble if Mrs Kane finds out, Clarke, you know how she is about her books,” Lexa says, though the guilt doesn’t stop her from moaning at the taste of the delicious pie.

 

“I’m sorry, would you like me to take it away?”

 

Lexa shakes her head furiously, eating faster as if the food was going to disappear at any second. It makes Clarke laugh for the fourth time in less than five minutes, and Lexa tries to think on her essay due tomorrow before this situation gets even more out of hand.

 

“That’s what I thought,” Clarke says. “Why weren’t you at dinner, though? You really are skipping meals too often.”

 

Lexa gestures to all the books and papers on the table. “I had to finish my homework before my lesson with Anya.”

 

Clarke hums, taking a look at the cheese pie before looking at Lexa’s papers, then back to the pie again…

 

“Do you want some, Clarke?” Lexa asks, taking another delicious bite.

 

Instead of answering, Clarke moves from her seat until she’s right beside Lexa. She ignores the fork Lexa offers and uses her thumb to wipe some cake off Lexa’s lips, before taking it into her mouth and moaning on her finger.

 

Lexa goes completely red as she watches Clarke’s smirk growing on her face. Quickly, she composes herself. “Was that good?”

 

“Excellent,” Clarke says, before crossing the short distance between their lips and tasting the pie directly from Lexa’s tongue. She smiles at Lexa’s little squeal of surprise, and switches to kiss her jaw until Lexa eases back into it. Clarke doesn’t know how long she can steal Lexa’s time for, but she’s going to enjoy every single second she can get. She has barely seen Lexa today, and lately she’s been relying too much on her company to make it through the night without at least spending some alone time with her.

 

Out of breath, Lexa breaks the kiss. “Um, I really don’t have time for sex right now, Clarke, I still have my Potions essay to finish.”

 

Clarke rests on her chair, crossing her arm. “Who said I was here for sex?”

 

“Uh,” Lexa blinks, unsure of what to say. “Why are you here then?”

 

An uncomfortable silence starts growing between them before Clarke clears her throat in an effort to point out the obvious, at least for her. “Well, I brought you dinner. And you’d have spent the whole night running after Anya with an empty stomach otherwise, so you’re welcome.”

 

“Thank you, Clarke,” Lexa nods sincerely. 

 

Clarke leans her elbows on the table and grabs a paper. Lexa frowns as she watches Clarke reading her homework, or at least trying to, because the paper is upside down. After a while, Clarke stops pretending she’s actually reading it and bites her lip while she looks at Lexa. “And I… I may have missed you. We only had one class together today.”

 

Lexa smiles, not caring about the blush taking over her face as long as Clarke’s smiling back at her like that. After an embarrassingly long moment, Lexa snaps out of her Clarke bubble and frowns, thinking about how weird this is. Clarke says she missed her and isn’t here for sex? Too good to be true. She shakes her head to herself and waves a hand over the table. 

 

“Well, I um, I really need to finish this so…”

 

“Oh, it’s okay. I can do it for you, mine’s already done.”

 

Lexa raises a confused eyebrow at her. “Won’t Pike notice the handwriting?”

 

“No, don’t worry. I can charm your quill to write in your handwriting even though I’ll be the one doing the writing.”

 

“That doesn’t sound too reliable, Clarke.”

 

“It’s okay, really. I get my Muggle Studies homework done by Raven all the time.”

 

“Clarke,” Lexa closes her eyes for a second. “You don’t have to do this, I can manage on my own.”

 

Clarke rewards her with a long questioning look. “Right, so that’s why you were starving yourself for the third night this week.”

 

“Why do you suddenly want to help me so badly?” Lexa snaps at her. She bites her lip the second the words are out of her mouth, and covers her face with her hands, trying with all her might not to look at Clarke. “I’m sorry. I’m quite tired, I didn’t mean that, Clarke.”

 

“Yes, you did. But that’s okay, I totally deserved it. Honestly,” Clarke shrugs and gives her a smile that Lexa knows is fake as soon as her dimples don’t show. “C’mon, you can rest for a few minutes, I’ll do your essay.”

 

Lexa licks her lips. The possibility of having fifteen minutes of peace doesn’t sound bad at all. She could just close her eyes right here and take the shortest of naps. But then again, who would want to close their eyes with Clarke Griffin sitting right next to them in a lonely library? Not Lexa, that’s for sure.

 

“Or…” she leans closer to Clarke’s space, feeling Clarke’s questioning gaze on her face. “I mean, I do have fifteen minutes to kill…”

 

“Is that so?” Clarke whispers, grabbing Lexa’s tie tightly. “A lot of things can be done in fifteen minutes.”

 

Lexa leans in, placing her lips over Clarke’s neck and travelling up to her ear. “Um, yeah. No sex, though.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Clarke arches her back against her as Lexa bites down on her neck, soothing the spot with a lingering kiss. But Clarke doesn’t let Lexa stay in control for long. Her fingers tangle in Lexa’s hair, she tightens her grip and pushes the girl back on her chair, until there’s enough room for her to climb onto her lap.

 

Lexa opens her eyes, feigning annoyance for the change of roles, but she soons forgets that when she’s met with Clarke’s eyes, blue and deep as the ocean, and Lexa never knows whether she’s going to be cleansed or drown. Tonight, Clarke holds her head in place as if she was afraid of not touching her ever again, and Lexa can’t help but think bitterly about the irony of that. 

 

Clarke kisses her again, with no demands, with no haste, with no hesitation. She gives Lexa one of those rare kisses that should be reserved for a few lucky ones, though Lexa knows that it can’t be, it must be her tiredness that’s turning the situation into something that’s not, because Lexa’s never, ever, been kissed like this.

 

Although she almost believes, almost, that this kiss truly is for her. That it’s Clarke’s love for her, unspoken. It’s the same confusion she finds when she wakes up after one of those nights in which Clarke will fall asleep soon after sex, too tired to go back to her room, she just stays in Lexa’s bed, taking up so much space that it’s impossible for Lexa to sleep without touching her.

 

But it isn’t, it’s not love. Clarke doesn’t love her, but that’s okay. Lexa can deal with that, as long as Clarke’s safe, and happy, Lexa can deal with anything.

 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

 

Clarke and Lexa jerk apart, so violently that they almost fall off the chair. Lucky for them, they’re close enough to the wall for Clarke to lean on it for support. She quickly gets off Lexa and runs a hand through her hair when she discovers Raven staring at them at the opposite side of the table.

 

“Well?” Raven raises an eyebrow at them, tapping her foot on the floor in dramatic fashion, “Who wants to explain first?”

 

Lexa’s waiting for Clarke to tell Raven that this isn’t what it looks like, or something along those lines. She prepares herself not to flinch when it inevitably happens, even though just the thought of it makes her sick.

 

“What, you want me to explain kissing to you?” Clarke throws back, sending Raven the same raised eyebrow. 

 

The answer has Lexa losing control of her body as her eyes widen and her mouth hangs open in disbelief. She composes herself before Raven can notice, clearing her throat uncomfortably.

 

“Clarke, what the fuck?” Despite her language, Lexa notices with a sigh of relief that Raven doesn’t look angry, just perplexed. “Since when have you two been together?”

 

“We’re not together,” Lexa says instantly, before Clarke can even register the question. “We’re just… we’re just hooking up.” The words almost make her vomit, but it’s far easier to say it herself than it would have been to hear the truth from Clarke’s mouth.

 

Raven looks taken aback for a moment, but then her eyes narrow at Clarke, and Clarke holds her stare with the same ferocity. Lexa feels like she’s intruding as she watches Clarke cross her arms over her chest, defensively.

 

“Since when?” Raven repeat, this time clearly directed to Clarke.

 

“Christmas,” Clarke mutters dryly.

 

Raven closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Fuck, Clarke. Why didn’t you just tell us?”

 

Lexa tries to make eye contact with Clarke, but Clarke’s eyes are fixed on the floor, as she bites her lip. Realising that this is between Clarke and Raven, Lexa gets up and gathers her things, trying to keep her mind clear as much as possible. She still has to meet Anya for training, after all. 

 

However, Clarke touches her arm and rests her hand there. She’s still not looking at Lexa but she’s inched closer to her. “I told you I’d do your essay,” she whispers.

 

Lexa blinks, how Clarke can think of homework right now is beyond her. “It’s okay, Clarke. You don’t have to do that.”

 

“I want to.” She finally makes eye contact then, a hint of worry making itself visible in her slight frown.

 

“Okay,” Lexa gives in, because she honestly doesn’t have time for this if she wants to make it to Anya’s lesson on time. She turns to Raven, who’s been watching their quiet interaction in thoughtful silence. “I’m sorry, I have, um, patrol tonight. I have to go.”

 

Before she’s managed to make it a few steps away from them, Raven’s voice stops her.

 

“Hey, Woods. I’m sorry, this is between this idiot and me,” Raven gives her a side smile. “We cool?”

 

Lexa glances back at Clarke briefly, just enough to receive a short nod from her. “Yeah, we’re cool, Reyes.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**YEAR 6 - 1st September, 2047**

 

“She’s late, as every year,” Nia says, excruciating Abby with a furious look, as if the woman had anything to do with the fact that Clarke hasn’t arrived yet, despite there being less than ten minutes before the train leaves.

 

“I’m sure they’ll be here any minute,” Abby says in an apparent calm voice. In the look she gives her next, Lexa can guess she’s not calm at all. “Alexandria, why don’t you go ahead and put your trunk inside? I’ll send Clarke in as soon as she gets here.”   
  


Lexa looks at her aunt, searching for an answer to the question that was directed to her. When Nia nods without sparing her a second glance, Lexa turns away and is soon swallowed by the crowd. She sees many familiar faces, but greets none. The station is full of hysteric first years and bored older students, and Lexa struggles to find her way into the train, as people keep pushing and pulling from the crowd.

 

Suddenly, a hand grabs her shoulder, intentionally. Out of reflex, Lexa is quick to shake the hand off, but when she turns to see who it belongs to, she frowns. 

 

“Mr Griffin?” She asks, not bothering to hide her confusion.

 

“Hi, Lexa. And Jake’s fine, you know that,” he says. “I was hoping to catch you before it was too late.”

 

“Oh. Okay,” Lexa says. She waits, looking around to find Clarke’s face in the crowd. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably when Jake stays quiet after a long moment, and tightens her grip on her trunk. “So, um… how are you?”

 

He laughs, delighted, and shakes his head with a little smile. “Fine, I’m fine. But I didn’t sneak in here to tell you about my day.” He sighs then, and as he speaks again, Lexa can sense the serious change in his voice. “I have something for you.”

 

Lexa frowns, and her confusion only gets deeper when he reaches a hand inside his coat and takes out with him a little tube that holds some silvery substance. If it weren’t for Anya, Lexa wouldn’t know the meaning behind it. However, as she cautiously takes the tube that Jake’s offering, a strange feeling settles in the back of her head. 

 

“This is a memory, right?” She asks despite not needing the confirmation. The liquid shifts as she moves the tube slowly. She can barely take her eyes away from it to look back at Jake. “Why are you giving me this?”

 

“You can’t tell any of this to Clarke. Promise me.”

 

“Jake, I─”

 

“The big game’s about to change, Lexa.” She’s never heard him speak in this dreadfully serious voice, and her heart starts beating faster at the uncertainty. “Time’s running out.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Lexa whispers, suddenly aware of the people surrounding them, who fortunately are too preoccupied with saying goodbye to care about their conversation.

 

He nods towards the tube. “You’ll do once you see what’s in there. It’s only a piece to the puzzle, but there’s no more of it. You’ll have to protect it with your life.”

 

“I will,” Lexa says. If this memory is in any way an answer to the one of the thousand questions she’s got about herself, about Clarke, about everything, she’s not going to let anything get in the way.”

 

“There’s one condition,” Jakes says. His voice is lower, less demanding, and Lexa waits patiently for him to continue talking. “I’m sick, Lexa. I have very few time left.”

 

Lexa frowns. Sick? But sure there are many remedies and potions to cure him. “Haven’t you been to St Mungo’s yet?” she asks with a tilt of her head.

 

“No, honey. I’m a muggle now, remember?” He gives her a sweet smile, and Lexa doesn’t understand why something so good and gentle won’t live endlessly.

 

“But if you just asked for treatment they’d─”

 

“Lexa,” he takes a step closer to her and places a hand in her shoulder, slightly bending over to meet her eyes. “My time’s over. We all have to atone for the things we’ve done in our lives. You’ll understand once you see what’s inside, but you need to promise not to look before I’m gone.”

 

“How is you dying going to help anyone? How is it going to help Clarke?” Lexa closes her eyes for a moment, not able to look into that familiar blue color for a second longer. “Does Clarke even know you’re sick?”

 

“No, she doesn’t. And she can’t know,” his mouth gives away a twitch of displeasure. “You can’t tell her any of this.”

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Lexa shakes her head. “You’re the person she loves most in the world. She’ll break if she loses you.”

 

“Listen to me,” Jake says. Time’s ticking and they have just a few minutes before Lexa has to board the train. “You and Clarke, you were both destined to something much bigger than what any of us can even begin to understand. Everything has a flow, an order. Once it’s alternated, it needs to get back to its natural phase, no matter what it takes. We’re all part of this redesigning, we all have a role to play. But our role can’t be compared to yours and Clarke’s, Lexa. There are sacrifices to make, and there’s no way out of it.”

 

“So why aren’t you telling both of us?” Lexa asks. “Why didn’t you give this to Clarke?” She clutches the tube in her hand, guarding it in a fist. “She’s your daughter.”

 

“Those,” Jake says, his exhaustion evidence, “are my own memories. You have a right to be the first one to see them. You’ll understand what I mean only when you’ve seen them.”

 

“But I can’t do that until you’re dead,” her dry voice reveals the question.

 

He looks at her with eyes filled with regret, and Lexa wonders where that even came from. “You had to grew up so fast, yet you’re still just a kid…” he whispers to himself. “Once you see them, there’s no turning back, Lexa. The horror, the desperation, war… it’ll all come back to you. And you’re not ready, not yet. You need a few more months. Let yourself live for a few more months. Let the balance shift on its own time.”

 

“And then you’ll die,” she says, tears of frustration welling up in her eyes.

 

“Right,” he gives her a bittersweet smile. “But I’ve had my fair share, you know. In fact, much more than I deserve. And maybe, I’ll find my peace that way.”

  
  
  


**10th July, 2047**

 

Dreams follow her every night. A faceless face, babies crying, a woman giving birth, regret, a wolf alone at the shadow of a full moon. Children’s voices, they’re trying to speak to her, they’re begging, crying, but when Lexa looks at them in her dreams, they don’t have faces. There’s a maniac laughter, and cold, coldness like ice, burning her. 

 

Until she wakes, sweaty, breathless, more tired than she was when she closed her eyes.

 

The summer always makes the nights worse. Away from the comfort of Hogwarts, she finds herself alone in her aunt’s mansion. A house that she lives in, but a house that’s not her home. They live alone, Nia, Lexa, and a house elf that Nia pays just the minimum amount established by Hermione Granger years ago, before the Ice War. The elf, Pynee, Lexa can’t trust. She can’t trust him because she knows he’s not on her side, he’s on Nia’s. Not because of loyalty, but fear. Lexa doesn’t blame him.

 

So it’s summer, so Lexa’s alone. Miserable when Nia’s in the house, trapped when she isn’t. The only person in which Lexa can find comfort ever so frequently is Abby Griffin, in those days the woman comes by the house and stays with Lexa, cooks her one of her own meals, offers some conversation. Though Mrs Griffin visits at least once every two days, Lexa’s nights never get any better. When she’s lucky, she’ll sleep through the night and will only have to deal with her nightmares in the morning. When she’s not lucky, she’ll jerk awake and find hell before she finds sleep again.

 

Tonight, she’s not lucky. Her eyes open wide, her lungs grasp a violent amount of air that makes her feel like burning, as if she’d been holding her breath underwater all this time. She’s covered in a sticky sweat, and her sight’s blurry by silent tears.

 

“Bad dream?”

 

Lexa jumps violently and taps around for her wand in the darkness. Her heart beats loudly in her chest when she can finally see the owner of the voice. “Anya!”

 

Anya sits on Lexa’s armchair, by the window, and she gives Lexa a warning look. “Careful, kid. We don’t want to wake auntie.”

 

Lexa thinks that’s unlikely, because Nia’s house is a mansion, and Nia’s room is impossibly farther from Lexa’s. Nevertheless, the idea of Anya risking getting caught by Nia makes her go from a surprised state to a panicked one in less than a second. 

 

“Anya!” She repeats, still incredule. “What are you doing here? How did you even get in here?”

 

Anya flicks a hand, dismissively. “Not enough time for that, I have something to show you.”

 

“What?” Lexa says with her heart on her throat. “Anya, if Nia finds you here…”

 

“She won’t. We’re leaving.”

 

Lexa blinks. “I don’t understand.”

 

“Grab a coat, we’re wasting time.” Anya gets up and, instead of waiting for Lexa to get a coat, she walks to her wardrobe and takes the first thing that seems like one. “C’mon, we’re running against the clock.”

 

Still numb from sleep, Lexa manages to get up and put on the robes Anya throws her

 

“Grab my arm.”

 

“Where are we go─”

 

Lexa should have known that Anya was going to apparate them without previous warning. The first thing she sees when she gets fully control of her body again is snow. Snow, in the middle of summer. It’s cold, and Lexa curses under her breath at Anya from organising this without any heads up.

 

“You aren’t sick,” Anya comments. “It’s not the first time you apparate.”   
  


“No,” Lexa mutters.

 

Anya almost seems disappointed that Lexa’s not sick, but shrugs it off and begins to walk in the snow. Lexa follows her, thanking every magic creature that she wore socks to bed that night, because she’d be barefoot otherwise.

 

“It’s a shame that you need a license to apparate, or I would have taught you already.”

 

“I’ll learn this year with everyone else.”

 

“Boring.”

 

“Where are we?” Lexa asks through gritted teeth due to the cold. “And why did you bring me here?”

 

“Someone wanted to meet you.”

 

“Who?”

 

Anya pays no attention to her, she merely keeps walking. The journey lasts a few more minutes, in which Lexa reluctantly follows her mentor, wondering aloud several times why Anya didn’t apparate them closer to their destination. She gets her answer soon enough, when they finally stop in front of a rocky mountain. Anya draws her wand out and murmurs some words, and suddenly, the rocks start drifting apart from each other, the snow evaporates in a cloud of fog, and they stand before a tall, wooden door.

 

“It’s a safe house,” Lexa gasps. It’s the first one she’s ever seen in person, but she’s read plenty about them. “You’re the secret-keeper, right? Is it your house?”

 

“No,” Anya denies. “We’re here to visit some friends.”

 

“Some friends who want to meet me,” Lexa raises an eyebrow at Anya, getting fed up of the situation.

 

“Something like that. Let’s go, they’re waiting.”

 

Inside, Lexa doesn’t find what she was expecting. She thought the safe house would be a cave, due to it’s location, but she’s greeted by the sight of white walls, bare but for a few chandeliers illuminating their way. The hallway is long and, at the end, there’s a door.

 

Anya knocks three times on the door. They wait. After a few seconds, steps can be heard behind the door. The person hesitates, and Anya extends an arm to keep Lexa behind her.

 

“Titus,” she calls, “open the door.”

 

Titus is a tall man, bald, and with strange symbols on the top of his head. He doesn’t open the door completely at first, just enough for Lexa to take a peek at him. He greets her with the same excruciation, staring at her with wide, curious eyes.

 

“You’re here,” he says in a breath.

 

Lexa doesn’t realise at first that he’s speaking to her, but his eyes never once leave her, and she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, suddenly finding comfort in Anya’s protective arm.

 

“Alexandria Woods, the last surviving nightblood,” he whispers. Then, the creepiness seems to leave him, as he holds the door open and finally addresses Anya. “Please, come inside. I’ll make some tea.”

 

Lexa only moves when Anya does. They’re lead to a cosy living room, and Titus invites them to sit. Anya tells Lexa to do so, even though she stays on her feet herself.

 

“The tea won’t be necessary,” she says. “I just need to speak with him, then we’ll leave.”

 

“So soon?” He seems sad for a moment, then shrugs and looks at Lexa. “Forgive me, it gets rather lonely around here.”

 

“Where is he?” Anya asks, ignoring him.

 

“In his room. Where else? He’s always in his room.”

 

Anya nods. Then, she turns to Lexa and puts a hand on her shoulder. “Stay here, I won’t be long.”

 

Lexa frowns as she watches Anya disappear upstairs, but seizes the moment to take in how actually big this place is. The living room is both that and a kitchen, which is full of pots and potions of all kinds. There’s a large chimney, a long table, and every surface has a stock of books on it. The stairs go up and down, and Lexa wonders how many people live in this safe house, and why they are on a safe house in the first place.

 

“You’ve grown up so much,” Titus says. He’s busy with a few of his potions now, and she can see the back of the symbols of his head. “Has the other one grown like you?”

 

“The other one?” Lexa repeats, confused.

 

“Yes, the other one. The other part.”

 

Lexa frowns and wonders if the man is in the right state of mind. “I’m sorry I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“I’m sure she has,” TItus continues, nodding to himself. “I remember her, when she was born. She was a baby. Babies grow up fast. I’m sure she has.”

 

Lexa doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t know what Titus is talking about, or if he’s talking about anything at all. Hoping that the strange man will give her some answers, she nods towards the staircase.

 

“Who’s the man Anya is talking to?”

 

“It’s a secret,” Titus says. He walks closer to her, carrying a big pot, and takes a seat. “Everything’s a secret. I made a vow, not to tell.” He shows her his right wrist, and Lexa can see the scars of an unbreakable vow. It’s not the first time she’s seen someone with those scars.

 

“I’m tired of secrets,” she says, surprising herself as the words leave her mouth.

 

Titus gives her a knowing look. “But secrets win wars. Don’t you know?”

 

Lexa looks at him, and at the big pot he’s holding. Steam comes from it, and it catches her curiosity. “What’s that?”

 

“A dragon,” he says, suddenly excited. “Want to see?”

 

Lexa frowns at him skeptically. It’s impossible that there’s a dragon in there, it wouldn’t fit. 

 

“Don’t worry, she won’t bite.” Titus says, then wraps his hands in his large robes and introduces them in the pot. He takes out an egg, white with silver spots. “She would have to hatch the egg first.”

 

Lexa watches the dragon egg with fascinated eyes. She reaches a hand to touch it, almost unconsciously, and is met with hot fire. It burns, the egg, and Lexa’s read multiple times that that only happens when the egg is about to hatch. But there aren’t any cracks on it, and Lexa realises, sadly, that she won’t be meeting any baby dragons tonight.

 

Something comes to her attention then. She looks at Titus with a frown. “How do you know it’s a she?”

 

“Oh, I know, I know. I’ve taken care of her all by myself since I found her. I know.”

 

“Are you a dragonologist?”

 

“No, no, no. I’m a healer. Used to be. Not anymore. Now I’m just Titus and I live here. This is my house.”

 

Lexa stops herself from asking more questions, knowing it’s useless to try and get any answers from this man. Fortunately, Anya comes back in soon after. But she’s not alone. There’s a man with her, he stops on the last step and observes Lexa from there. He’s younger than Titus, much younger. He seems to be Anya’s age, actually, whatever that is. He seems familiar, but Lexa doesn’t know why. And before she can figure it out, or even ask anything, he disappears again, his feet echoing in the distance.

 

“We’re ready to go now,” Anya announces, walking straight to the door.

 

Lexa follows, and Titus gets up hurriedly.

 

“Will you come back?” He asks Anya. “Will you bring the other?”   
  


“Let’s hope it doesn’t get to that,” Anya says.

 

Titus returns the egg to its pot and locks eyes with Lexa. “Raxas will be happy to meet you when you return.”

 

“Raxas,” Lexa tests the name in her mouth. “It’s a good name. I hope she hatches soon.”

 

Once they’re outside again, alone in the snow, Lexa makes her frustration known. “Why did you bring me here? And who was that man? And the other man?”

 

“I can’t tell you who they are, Lexa, and you can throw a tantrum all you want. Did you see the marks in Titus’ wrist? It means that-”   
  


“I know what it means,” Lexa crosses her arms. “Clarke’s mom has them, too.”

 

“So you shouldn’t be asking questions.”

 

“How can I not?” Lexa snaps. “You dragged me from bed in the middle of the night to make me meet some weird dude.”

 

“I brought you with me to get this,” Anya introduces a hand in her robes and takes out a small tube, with a silvery substance in the inside. “It’s a memory. They told me I had to bring you if I wanted to get it.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Bites me, kid. You’re famous, maybe the guy had some weird obsession.”

 

“You’re lying,” Lexa accuses. “Whatever. What’s in it anyway?”

 

“Secrets, kid. Secrets win wars.”   
  


“That’s the same thing Titus said,” Lexa narrows her eyes at Anya. “What war are we supposed to be fighting exactly?”

Anya stops on her tracks at that, and turns to Lexa, incredulous. “Are you serious, Lexa? Tell me, why do you think I’ve been training you for these past years?”

 

Lexa swallows hard. It’s never good when Anya gets serious. “Um, to help me control my magic,” she says, because that’s the truth. That’s what Headmistress Indra said.

 

“Wrong,” Anya spits dryly. “I’ve been teaching you to fight, Lexa. Or trying to, for that matter.”

 

Lexa blinks. “To fight what? The Ice Queen is dead. I’m the only nightblood left. All the dark wizards are gone. What is there exactly to fight?”

 

Anya sighs, and shakes her head. For a while, Lexa thinks she’s not going to say anything else, but as they approach the spot they apparated on, Anya finally asks, with a neutral voice, “What do you know about your parents?”

 

Lexa blinks, that question is the last thing she expected. “Nothing. Their names, Sybil and Alexander Woods.”

 

Anya nods. “But you do know your aunt is not actually your aunt, I assume. Nia Blackstone isn’t the sister to either of your parents.”

  
“Yes, of course I know that,” Lexa says. “She told me the Ministry of Magic put me under her care after the Ice War, in order to pay for the crimes her family had committed.”

 

“Well, she lied,” Anya simply says.

 

Lexa’s heart skips a beat. “What do you mean?”   
  


“The Blackstones were a pureblood family of dark wizards, that’s true. All dead after the war. Everyone but Nia, who didn’t have any evidence against her.”

 

Lexa frowns, “Yeah, that’s what she told me.”

 

“The Ministry didn’t give her a punishment. Why would you give a baby to a suspicious dark witch? That’s plainly stupid. She asked for you. She wanted to have you.”

 

“What?” Lexa’s thought all her life that she was a burden to Nia, a punishment for the crimes of her family. “Why would she do that?”

 

Anya shrugs. “She convinced the Ministry that she’d be able to, let’s say, keep you in line. She gave a long speech about her life in a family of dark wizards. She said that, if she had been able to not turn into a dark witch herself, despite her family, she was the best chance to look after you.”

 

“How do you know that?” Lexa asks. 

 

“My job is to know stuff, kid,” Anya smirks, her signature smirk, for the first time that night. “Anyway, do you trust her?”   
  


Lexa thinks for a moment before answering, “No, not after what you told me. Well, I’ve never trusted her, actually. She makes me feel… weird.”

 

“What I’m about to tell you,” Anya says, keeping her voice low and deep, “is something that you should never, ever, tell anyone. This is not a joke, this is not just a little secret that you have to keep like our classes. This is, perhaps, the only thing you get to know about the truth until further notice.”

 

Lexa nods furiously. Her body has long since forgotten about its interrupted sleep, and it’s now pumping blood with excitement. “I won’t tell anyone,” she says, “I promise.”

 

“Good,” Anya nods. “Because you’d probably be dead if you did. Hold tight, kid, you’re going to need it. We, and don’t ask who we are, because you won’t hear an answer, we’re almost certain that the Ice Queen isn’t dead.”

 

A sudden dizziness overcomes Lexa, as she takes the words in. Anya waits patiently, observing the tiny muscles move in Lexa’s face. “But… but that’s, that’s not possible,” Lexa manages to stutter out. “They found her body.”

 

“No, a body with a faceless face was found,” Anya corrects. “The Ice Queen could have very well jinxed anyone and disappeared. That’s the thing about her, no one knew who she was. No one saw her face, not even her followers. She always had that faceless spell on.”

 

“But that’s just speculation!” Lexa shakes her head in panic. “She hasn’t been active in years, there’s no proof to believe that she’s alive.”

 

“Yes, there is.” Anya shows her the tube with the memory again. “We haven’t been sitting on our asses all these years, Lexa. We’ve investigated enough to believe that she’s not dead. And the first sign of that? The prophecy.”

 

“But no one’s heard the prophecy,” Lexa tries to reason. “Everyone says Clarke and I will fall in love and unite, and we’re supposed to believe that even though we’ve never heard it. And besides, Clarke hates me, so the prophecy’s wrong.”

 

“Yeah, I hear the Griffin girl likes to make things difficult. Well, what can I say, I didn’t ask for the future of the whole world to rest in the shoulders of two teenagers but, I’m sure you didn’t ask either so let’s just skip the whole denying phase.”

 

“Anya─”

 

“Look, Lexa. I know how scary this is,” She grabs Lexa by the shoulders and forces them to meet eye to eye. “You’re very young, and you didn’t ask for this, and this is very unfair, and it sucks. But it’s the way it is. So you have two choices, you either run from your fate, until you can’t anymore, or you face it now, and you prepare yourself for it.”

 

Lexa’s eyes harden. She realises then that this was a test. Anya tested her with a small part of the truth, and she failed astonishingly. But not anymore. She’s ready for this, whatever it is, she has to be. “So,” she says. She clears her throat, it’s dry, and she’s exhausted, but tonight feels like the closest to victory she’s ever been. “If the Ice Queen isn’t dead, who is she?”

 

“Now you’re asking the right questions,” Anya nods, satisfied. “Let’s see if you can figure it out by yourself.”

 

Lexa frowns and is about to complain when she gets it. Why did Anya ask about her parents before revealing her the truth? Why did she ask about Nia? Fear takes over Lexa for a minute, she’s afraid to even think about it. But it can’t be, can it? Nia’s looked after her all her life. In her own way, yes, but Lexa’s known her all her life, and this, this just isn’t right.

 

“Nia… But it can’t be,” she whispers to herself.

 

Anya raises an eyebrow. “Why’s that?

 

“She’s taken care of me all these years. If she wanted to use me, if she wanted to use the nightbloods as the Ice Queen wanted, she would have done it already.”

 

“Yeah, a drained dark witch and a kid against the entire rest of the magic world,” Anya chuckles, but turns serious again immediately. “She used to have an army, Lexa. It was destroyed, so she needed to lie low. She orchestrated her own death, took you in with a cover, a very good cover if I may add. And now she’s waiting.”

 

“Waiting for what?”

 

“That’s what we came here for. This,” again, she points to the memory, “might give us some insight.”   
  


“So let’s see what’s inside,” Lexa urges, there’s no time to lose.

 

“Ah, I wish it were that easy. This is not a normal memory, I’m afraid. The man it belonged to, his memory was wiped. Just getting this small part was almost impossible, and it’s tainted. There’s a lot more to do before it’s a pure memory again. He can’t help us for now, but there’s an old saying: search in the memories of those whose mouths are sealed. He might not be able to help us, but his memories will, when they’re whole. ”

 

“Okay,” Lexa resigns, accepting that every step she takes forward will mean two more back. “So we wait,” Anya nods in confirmation. Then, something crosses Lexa’s mind. “And meanwhile, I have to go back to her, to the same roof as her.”

 

“Yes, well. That’s why the rest of us didn’t want you to know. I’m putting you at a lot of risk by telling you, but you were already at risk anyway. They’re not going to be happy, but at least you’re not completely in the dark anymore.”

 

“Should I even ask who you’re talking about?”

 

“No, kid. That’s enough for tonight. You’re not going to get anything else out of me anytime soon.”

  
  
  


**YEAR 6 ー 3rd May, 2048**

 

_ “Remember my words, Alexandria. And know one last thing before I go: there are four heads of the story. Search in the memories of those whose mouths are sealed.” _

 

That’s it! The realisation finally hits Lexa. “Search in the memories of those whose mouths are sealed”, that’s what the ghost told her, but she knew she had heard the words before. Anya! Anya told her! Suddenly, her head feels dizzy with excitement. A memory, the ghost was talking about a memory! She gets up quickly from her seat at the Slytherin table, ignoring the confused looks she’s receiving from her housemates, and runs towards the door. Headmistress Indra isn’t at her table, so she must be in her office, and Lexa needs to talk to her immediately.

 

They need to make contact with Anya, no matter what. Anya’s been missing for weeks, but she’ll know what to do. Lexa’s wasted enough time already in the days she’s spent trying to figure out the ghost’s riddle. But now she knows, and she needs to tell Anya. Anya will know what to do, Lexa’s going to find her no matter what it takes.

 

She arrives at the office breathless, she knocks on the door but lets herself in before she gets any answer; there’s no time to lose. She barges in, finding Indra by her desk, writing something down. Indra raises her head at Lexa’s interruption, and her jaw clenches at Lexa’s boldness, but Lexa has no time for pleasantries. She runs to the desk, until she’s standing before it, and puts her hands on the table, leaning to look into Indra’s eyes and show her how serious she is about this.

 

“We need to find Anya,” she says, ignoring Indra’s murderous look. “Right now. It’s of extreme importance, you need to get to her immediately.”

 

Indra takes a deep breath as she sets her quill on the table. “Alexandria─”

 

“I’m sorry, Headmistress, but this is vital! It’s what the ghost said, the prophecy! I finally figured it out, but we need Anya!”

 

Lexa watches, bewildered, as Indra’s anger nothing but increases. She doesn’t understand, how Indra can still be pissed at her interruption. This is much more important than any knock or any pleasantry. 

 

Someone clears their throat then, and Lexa’s eyes widen as she realises, horrified, that that person is neither she nor the Headmistress. There’s someone else in the room. Someone who’s heard what Lexa just said. She catches Indra’s pointed look, just in time to turn her back to her and discover, almost relieved, that the other person in the room is Raven Reyes.

 

And Lexa’s almost relieved, yes, because in the hundreds of possible scenarios that were running through her mind in that small fraction of time, she had imagined Nia standing there, finding out about Lexa’s awareness of her, targeting everyone she loves.

 

“What─ what on Earth are you talking about?” Raven asks with eyes impossibly wider. She alternates between looking at Lexa and Indra, demanding an answer.

 

Finally, not without giving Lexa the most furious of looks, Indra speaks. “Miss Reyes, please, we’ll go over your schedule issue tomorrow. Now, leave Miss Woods and I alone, and if I catch you telling anyone about this, you won’t have to worry about a schedule at all.”

 

Raven swallows so hard at the harshness of the Headmistress that Lexa can hear it perfectly. She nods and takes off hurriedly, but Lexa isn’t spared of a last warning look from the girl, which tells her that she’ll be hearing much of Raven in the future.

 

When the door’s finally closed behind her, Lexa quickly puts her hands up defensively. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! But please, ma'am, listen to me first, then you can ground me or whatever, I don’t care.”

 

Indra crosses her arms and rests against her chair, with her lips pursed, clearly the complete opposite of amused. Eventually she nods, “What’s this vital thing you found out, Alexandria?”

 

“The ghost, she told me to “search in the memories of those whose mouths are sealed”,” Lexa explains more calmly this time. “And I had heard that before, only I couldn’t remember where. But I just did, ma’am. This summer, Anya took me to a safe house one night. And she told me the same thing, I know what it means now. It’s about memories, the ghost wanted me to search memories.”

 

Indra nods. “Yes, that much I had figured out myself.”

 

“Wait, what?” Lexa frowns. “You already knew what it meant?”

 

“Of course, Alexandria. Do you think anyone can get to the highest position in Hogwarts by just knowing how to hold a wand? I’m aware of everything Anya does.”

 

Lexa blinks. “But if you knew, why didn’t you say anything?”

 

“I didn’t see the point,” Indra tells her simply. “We’re not in possession of any memories.”

 

Lexa runs a hand through her hair, desperately. “But what about the one Anya got from that safe house?”

 

“That one’s still useless,” Indra admits. “That’s why your mentor’s been missing. And she won’t be back until she manages to obtain the whole memory. So no, until further word from Anya, there’s nothing we can do.”

 

Lexa focuses her eyes on the floor, knowing what this means, knowing that the time has come. She reaches a hand into the inside of her robes, in a secret pocket she made herself, and curls her hand tightly around the tube hidden there.

 

“Yes, there is,” she murmurs.

 

Indra blinks at her. “Pardon?”

 

“I have Jake Griffin’s memories.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo, does anyone have a hint about why clarke is so mad at lexa during 6/7 ???? (easy guess, guys) 
> 
> lexa learns new stuff about the ice queen, what did you think of that? it was pretty clear, right? not for clarke and lexa, though. and why could jake's memories be so important? who's that other guy at the safe house? c'mon, this one you can guess, for sure.
> 
> let me know what you're thinking in the comments!! don't spare any details, comments are so rewarding and fun to read, i'll be waiting for your opinion on the chapter!!
> 
> last but not least, come find me at @ bihedaclarke (tumblr) for whatevs and for info about the story. see u soon.


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